They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

O Thou Invisible Spirit Of Wine, If Thou Hast No Name To Be Known By, Let Us Call Thee Devil.

The Soul Of This Man Is His Clothes.

Why Should We Rise Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down Because T'was Night?