Why, Then The World ’s Mine Oyster,

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

I Was Adored Once Too.

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.

Miracles Are Ceased; And Therefore We Must Needs Admit The Means, How Things Are Perfected.