Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing

A Man In All The World's New Fashion Planted, That Hath A Mint Of Phrases In His Brain.

Verily, I Swear, It Is Better To Be Lowly Born, And Range With Humble Livers In Content, Than To Be Perked Up In A Glistering Grief, And Wear A Golden Sorrow.

The Fortune Of Us That Are The Moon's Men Doth Ebb And Flow Like The Sea, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By The Moon.

Good Counselors Lack No Clients.

Is It Possible He Should Know What He Is, And Be That He Is?