We Cannot All Be Masters.

Would I Were In An Alehouse In London.

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

When Truth Kills Truth, O Devilish Holy Fray!

A Woman That Is Like A German Clock, Still A-repairing, Ever Out Of Frame, And Never Going Aright, Being A Watch, But Being Watched That It May Still Go Right!

Ay, Is It Not A Language I Speak?