Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands

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

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!

A Friend Should Bear His Friend's Infirmities.

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

You Taught Me Language, And My Profit On't / Is, I Know How To Curse