Misery Makes Sport To Mock

Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long.

Come Unto These Yellow Sands, And Then Take Hands. Curtsied When You Have And Kissed The Wild Waves Whist, Foot Is Featly Here And There; And, Sweet Sprites, The Burden Bear. Ariel's Song, Scene Ii, Act I

As He Was Valiant, I Honour Him. But As He Was Ambitious, I Slew Him.

If Thou Remeber'st Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Into, Thou Hast Not Lov'd

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.