I Like Not Fair Terms And A

The Labor We Delight In Physics [cures] Pain.

You Cannot Make Gross Sins Look Clear: To Revenge Is No Valour, But To Bear.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still For That Which Longer Nurseth The Disease, Feeding On That Which Doth Preserve The Ill, Th' Uncertain Sickly Appetite To Please. My Reason, The Physician To My Love, Angry That His Prescriptions Are Not Kept, Hath Left Me, And I Desperate Now Approve Desire Is Death, Which Physic Did Except.

I Am Joined With No Foot Land-rakers, No Long-staff, Sixpenny Strikers, None Of These Mad, Mustachio Purple-hued Maltworms, But With Nobility And Tranquillity.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers