Pilot
These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends
Our Toil Shall Strive To Mend
And Left No Friendly Drop
Dreamers Often Lie
Stabbed With a White Wench's Black Eye
To Seek a Foe
An Old Accustom'd Feast
Some Consequence Yet Hanging in the Stars
What Storm Is This That Blows So?
Give Me a Torch
This Trick May Chance to Scathe You
Passion Lends Them Power