Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

Let Those That Play Your Clowns Speak No More Than Is Set Down For Them.

Ay Me! Sad Hours Seem Long.

In Sooth I Know Not Why I Am So Sad. It Wearies Me, You Say It Wearies You; But How I Caught It, Found It, Or Came By It, What Stuff 'tis Made Of, Whereof It Is Born, I Am To Learn.

What Need The Bridge Much Broader Than The Flood?