Like The Lily That Once

Graze On My Lips; And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

Time's The King Of Men; He's Both Their Parent, And He Is Their Grave, And Gives Them What He Will, Not What They Crave.

Out, Damned Spot! Out, I Say!

Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

Death-counterfeiting Sleep.