Thou Knowest, Winter Tames Man, Woman, And

But Now I Am Cabined, Cribbed, Confined, Bound In To Saucy Doubts And Fears.

Romans, Countrymen, And Lovers, Hear Me For My Cause, And Be Silent, That You May Hear.

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

You Have Dancing Shoes With Nimble Soles. I Have A Soul Of Lead.

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.