Better A Little Chiding Than

Thou And I Are Too Wise To Woo Peaceably.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

Oh! That You Could Turn Your Eyes Towards The Napes Of Your Necks, And Make But An Interior Survey Of Your Good Selves.

I Dare Do All That May Become A Man; Who Dares Do More, Is None

On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily.