Fortune, Thou Hadst No Deity, If Men

Ods Me I Marle What Pleasure Or Felicity They Have In Taking Their Roguish Tobacco. It Is Good For Nothing But To Choke A Man, And Fill Him Full Of Smoke And Embers.

It Holds For Good Polity Ever, To Have That Outwardly In Vilest Estimation, Which Inwardly Is Most Dear To Us.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.

Well, I Will Scourge Those Apes, And To These Courteous Eyes Oppose A Mirror, As Large As Is The Stage Whereon We Act; Where They Shall See The Time's Deformity Anatomised In Every Nerve, And Sinew, With Constant Courage, And Contempt Of Fear.

Greatness Of Name, In The Father, Ofttimes Helps Not Forth, But Overwhelms The Son: They Stand Too Near One Another. The Shadow Kills The Growth.