Ay; Beauty's Princely Majesty Is Such, Confounds

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let Each Man Do His Best.

Virtue Is Beauty, But The Beauteous Evil. Are Empty Trunks O'erflourished By The Devil.

I Never See Thy Face But I Think Upon Hell-fire.

Let Men Say We Be Men Of Good Government, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By Our Noble And Chaste Mistress The Moon, Under Whose Countenance We Steal.