He's A Soldier; And For One To

I See Men's Judgments Are A Parcel Of Their Fortunes; And Things Outward Do Draw The Inward Quality After Them, To Suffer All Alike.

What Hands Are Here? Ha! They Pluck Out Mine Eyes! Will All Great Neptune’s Ocean Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand? No; This My Hand Will Rather The Multitudinous Seas Incarnadine, Making The Green One Red.” “my Hands Are Of Your Colour; But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White. A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed: How Easy It Is Then! Your Constancy Hath Left You Unattended.

He Hath Borne Himself Beyond The Promise Of His Age, Doing, In The Figure Of A Lamb, The Feats Of A Lion.

A Good Wit Will Make Use Of Anything.

To Be Direct And Honest Is Not Safe.