To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror

The Lowest Ebb Is The Turn Of The Tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made Of.

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

Now My Charms Are All O'erthrown.

Fools Are Not Mad Folks.

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.