Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

Not That I Loved Caesar Less, But That I Loved Rome More.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

If It Were Done When 'tis Done, Then 'twere Well. It Were Done Quickly.

For Honesty Coupled To Beauty, Is To Have Honey A Sauce To Sugar.

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.