The Labor We Delight In

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

Like A Man Made After Supper Of A Cheese-paring: When A' Was Naked, He Was, For All The World, Like A Forked Radish, With A Head Fantastically Carved Upon It With A Knife.

I Have Full Cause Of Weeping, But This Heart Shall Break Into A Hundred Thousand Flaws Or Ere I'll Weep.