We Must Every One Be A Man

Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

A Cup Of Hot Wine With Not A Drop Of Allaying Tiber In 't.