Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

I Have Not Slept. Between The Acting Of A Dreadful Thing And The First Motion, All The Interim Is Like A Phantasma, Or A Hideous Dream: The Genius And The Mortal Instruments Are Then In Council; And The State Of Man, Like To A Little Kingdom, Suffers Then The Nature Of An Insurrection.

Me, Poor Man, My Library Was Dukedom Large Enough.

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

There Is Little Choice In A Barrel Of Rotten Apples.

O Madam, My Old Heart Is Cracked, It's Cracked!