I Can Call Spirits From The Vasty

Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honor.

The Weakest Goes To The Wall.