Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

I Wish You All The Joy That You Can Wish.

Here Comes A Pair Of Very Strange Beasts, Which In All Tongues Are Called Fools.

Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime...

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.