Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

Is There No Pity Sitting In The Clouds That Sees Into The Bottom Of My Grief? O Sweet My Mother, Cast Me Not Away! Delay This Marriage For A Month, A Week, Or If You Do Not, Make The Bridal Bed In That Dim Monument Where Tybalt Lies.

Study Is Like The Heaven's Glorious Sun, That Will Not Be Deep-searched With Saucy Looks: Small Have Continual Plodders Ever Won, Save Base Authority From Others' Books.

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than Of Our Human Generation You Shall Find.

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?