Such Antics Do Not Amount

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

If Your Mind Dislike Anything Obey It

Such Thanks As Fits A King's Remembrance.

Gloucester, We Have Done Deeds Of Charity, Made Peace Of Enmity, Fair Love Of Hate, Between These Swelling Wrong-incensed Peers.

To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily... Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess