Now The Melancholy God Protect

I Had Rather Be A Kitten And Cry Mew Than One Of These Same Metre Ballet-mongers.

From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

If It Be True That Good Wine Needs No Bush, 'tis True That A Good Play Needs No Epilogue.

I Dote On His Very Absence.

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.