I Will Be Brief. Your

World, World, O World! But That Thy Strange Mutations Make Us Hate Thee/ Life Would Not Yield To Age.

Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives In Your Weakness Strength Unto Your Foe.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

When You Do Dance, I Wish You A Wave O' The Sea, That You Might Ever Do Nothing But That.