The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow

They That Have Voice Of Lions And Act Of Hares,--are They Not Monsters?

The Summer's Flower Is To The Summer Sweet Though To Itself It Only Live And Die

Something Is Rotten In The State Of Denmark.

Costly Thy Habit [dress] As Thy Purse Can Buy; But Not Expressed In Fancy - Rich, Not Gaudy. For The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

There's Little Of The Melancholy Element In Her, My Lord: She Is Never Sad But When She Sleeps; And Not Ever Sad Then; For I Have Heard My Daughter Say, She Hath Often Dreamt Of Unhappiness, And Waked Herself With Laughing.