For Such Things As You,

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

There's No Art To Find The Mind's Construction In The Face.

Farewell, My Sister, Fare Thee Well. The Elements Be Kind To Thee, And Make Thy Spirits All Of Comfort: Fare Thee Well.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question.

That's A Valiant Flea That Dares Eat His Breakfast On The Lip Of A Lion.