Sleep, That Sometimes Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye.

Hate Pollutes The Mind.

Thou Weigh'st Thy Words Before Thou Givest Them Breath.

Now, God Be Praised, That To Believing Souls Gives Light In Darkness, Comfort In Despair.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

Thou Art As Tyrannous, So As Thou Art, As Those Whose Beauties Proudly Make Them Cruel; For Well Thou Know'st To My Dear Doting Heart Thou Art The Fairest And Most Precious Jewel.