There Is None Of My Uncle's Marks

Make Me A Willow Cabin At Your Gate, And Call Upon My Soul Within The House; Write Loyal Cantons Of Contemned Love And Sing Them Loud Even In The Dead Of Night.

We Must Every One Be A Man Of His Own Fancy.

How Can Tyrants Safely Govern Home, Unless Abroad They Purchase Great Alliance.

I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At Him.

Foul Words Is But Foul Wind, And Foul Wind Is But Foul Breath, And Foul Breath Is Noisome; Therefore I Will Depart Unkissed.