It Is Less Dishonor To Hear Imperfectly

The Day For Whose Returns, And Many, All These Pray; And So Do I.

Truth Is Man's Proper Good, And The Only Immortal Thing Was Given To Our Mortality To Use.

Soul Of The Age! The Applause, Delight, The Wonder Of Our Stage! My Shakespeare , Rise; I Will Not Lodge Thee By Chaucer Or Spenser , Or Bid Beaumont Lie A Little Further, To Make Thee A Room; Thou Art A Monument, Without A Tomb, And Art Alive Still, While Thy Book Doth Live, And We Have Wits To Read , And Praise To Give .

We Are Persons Of Quality, I Assure You, And Women Of Fashion, And Come To See And To Be Seen.

The Dignity Of Truth Is Lost With Much Protesting.