Appetite, A Universal Wolf.

To England Will I Steal, And There I'll Steal.

It Is The Cowish Terror Of His Spirit That Dares Not Undertake; He'll Not Feel Wrongs Which Tie Him To An Answer.

Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question: Whether 'tis Nobler In The Mind To Suffer The Slings And Arrows Of Outrageous Fortune, Or To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles, And By Opposing End Them: To Die, To Sleep No More; And By A Sleep, To Say We End The Heart-ache, And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To? 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished. To Die To Sleep, To Sleep, Perchance To Dream; Aye, There's The Rub.

Though Justice Be Thy Plea Consider This, That In The Course Of Justice None Of Us Should See Salvation.