The Time Is Out Of Joint.

A Goodly Portly Man, I' Faith, And A Corpulent; Of A Cheerful Look, A Pleasing Eye, And A Most Noble Carriage; And, As I Think, His Age Some Fifty, Or, By'r Lady, Inclining To Threescore; And Now I Remember Me, His Name Is Falstaff.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.

I Was Born Free As Caesar; So Were You

He Must Needs Go That The Devil Drives.