Thou Shalt Not Stir One Foot To

He That Hath The Steerage Of My Course, Direct My Sail.

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good. Pity Is The Virtue Of The Law, And None But Tyrants Use It Cruelly.

Sir, In My Heart There Was A Kind Of Fighting That Would Not Let Me Sleep.