Weep I Cannot; But My Heart Bleeds.

Time's The King Of Men; He's Both Their Parent, And He Is Their Grave, And Gives Them What He Will, Not What They Crave.

What Is Honour? A Word. What Is In That Word Honour? What Is That Honour? Air. A Trim Reckoning! Who Hath It? He That Died O' Wednesday. Doth He Feel It? No. Doth He Hear It? No.

New Customs, Though They Be Never So Ridiculous (nay, Let Em Be Unmanly), Yet Are Followed.

Is She Not Passing Fair?

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.