Tis Time To Fear When

Indeed, Sir, He That Sleeps Feels Not The Toothache; But A Man That Were To Sleep Your Sleep, And A Hangman To Help Him To Bed, I Think He Would Change Places With His Officer; For Look You, Sir, You Know Not Which Way You Shall Go.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

He That Hath The Steerage Of My Course, Direct My Sail.

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

No Place Indeed Should Murder Sanctuarize; Revenge Should Have No Bounds.