Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

By Heaven, I'll Make A Ghost Of Him That Lets Me.

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind Thou Art Not So Unkind, As Man's Ingratitude.

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

Love's Not Love When It Is Mingled With Regards That Stand Aloof From Th' Entire Point.

If Circumstances Lead Me, I Will Find Where Truth Is Hid, Though It Were Hid Indeed Within The Centre.