I Am Not Only Witty In Myself,

What, With My Tongue In Your Tail? Nay, Come Again, Good Kate; I Am A Gentleman.

Earth-treading Stars That Make Dark Heaven Light

Are You Sure/that We Are Awake? It Seems To Me/that Yet We Sleep, We Dream

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One Pain Is Lessen'd By Another's Anguish.