Though She Be But Little, She Is

Throw Physic To The Dogs; I'll None Of It.

Fight Valiantly To-day; And Yet I Do Thee Wrong To Mind Thee Of It, For Thou Art Framed Of The Firm Truth Of Valor.

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

I Crave Fit Disposition For My Wife; Due Reference Of Place, And Exhibition; With Such Accommodation, And Besort, As Levels With Her Breeding.

Sorrow, Like A Heavy Ringing Bell, Once Set On Ringing, With Its Own Weight Goes; Then Little Strength Rings Out The Doleful Knell.