How many a holy and obsequious tear hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye, as interest of the dead!
As chaste as unsunned snow.
The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.
Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, where manners ne'er were preached.
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
It is a wise father that knows his own child.