O, How Full Of Briers Is This

This Feather Stirs; She Lives! If It Be So, It Is A Chance Which Does Redeem All Sorrows That Ever I Have Felt.

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.

Death Rock Me Asleep.

Love Yourself; And In That Love Not Unconsidered Leave Your Honor.

I Do Repent; But Heaven Hath Pleas'd It So To Punish Me With This, And This With Me, That I Must Be Their Scourge And Minister. I Will Bestow Him, And Will Answer Well The Death I Gave Him. So Again Good Night. I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind. Thus Bad Begins And Worse Remains Behind.