I Do Desire We May Be Better

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.

O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To Brutish Beasts, And Men Have Lost Their Reason !

Not All The Water In The Rough Rude Sea Can Wash The Balm From An Anointed King.

O Gentlemen, The Time Of Life Is Short! To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long, If Life Did Ride Upon A Dial's Point, Still Ending At The Arrival Of An Hour.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies; Of His Bones Are Coral Made; Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes; Nothing Of Him That Doth Fade, But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange. Sea-nymphs Hourly Ring His Knell: Ding-dong. Hark! Now I Hear Them — Ding-dong, Bell.