Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority.
O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.
Trust not your daughter's minds By what you see them act.
What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?