The Undiscovered Country From Whose Bourn No

The Jury Passing On The Prisoner's Life May In The Sworn Twelve Have A Thief Or Two Guiltier Than Him They Try.

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.

How Much Salt Water Thrown Away In Waste/ To Season Love, That Of It Doth Not Taste.

It Will Have Blood, They Say; Blood Will Have Blood.

Discharge My Followers; Let Them Hence Away, From Richard's Night To Bolingbrooke's Fair Day.