I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon

The Tyrant Custom, Most Grave Senators, Hath Made The Flinty And Steel Couch Of War My Thrice-driven Bed Of Down.

A Table-full Of Welcome!

Nothing Can Come Of Nothing.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

Be As Just And Gracious Unto Me, As I Am Confident And Kind To Thee.