Murder Will Out, This My Conclusion.

That Field Hath Eyen, And The Wood Hath Ears.

But Manly Set The World On Sixe And Sevene; And, If Thou Deye A Martir, Go To Hevene.

The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.

One Flesh They Are; And One Flesh, So I'd Guess, Has But One Heart, Come Grief Or Happiness.

Nowhere So Busy A Man As He There Was And Yet He Seemed Busier Than He Was.