I'll Speak In A Monstrous Little Voice.

If All The Year Were Playing Holidays; To Sport Would Be As Tedious As To Work.

Why Should You Think That I Should Woo In Scorn? Scorn And Derision Never Come In Tears: Look, When I Vow, I Weep; And Vows So Born, In Their Nativity All Truth Appears. How Can These Things In Me Seem Scorn To You, Bearing The Badge Of Faith, To Prove Them True?

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.