So Many Horrid Ghosts.

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

My Conscience Hath A Thousand Several Tongues, And Every Tongue Brings In A Several Tale, And Every Tale Condemns Me For A Villain. Perjury, Perjury, In The High'st Degree; Murder, Stern Murder In The Dir'st Degree, Throng To The Bar, Crying All, 'guilty!, Guilty!

Devils Soonest Tempt, Resembling Spirits Of Light.

Would The Cook Were O' My Mind!

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!