Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong

Four Days Will Quickly Steep Themselves In Nights; Four Nights Will Quickly Dream Away The Time; And Then The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow New Bent In Heaven, Shall Behold The Night Of Our Solemnities.

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

It Is The Witness Still Of Excellency To Put A Strange Face On His Own Perfection.

What's Brave, What's Noble, Let's Do It After The Roman Fashion.