Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From

I Can Counterfeit The Deep Tragedian; Speak And Look Back, And Pry On Every Side, Tremble And Start, At Wagging Of A Straw, Intending Deep Suspicion.

God Grant Us Patience!

We Fail! But Screw Your Courage To The Sticking-place, And We'll Not Fail.

Most Subject Is The Fattest Soil To Weeds.

What, Keep A Week Away? Seven Days And Nights, Eightscore-eight Hours, And Lovers' Absent Hours More Tedious Than The Dial Eightscore Times! O Weary Reckoning!