Music, Moody Food Of Us That Trade

O You Beast! I'll So Maul You And Your Toasting-iron, That You Shall Think The Devil Is Come From Hell.

The Band That Seems To Tie Their Friendship Together Will Be The Very Strangler Of Their Amity.

No Worse A Husband Than The Best Of Men.

The Error Of Our Eye Directs Our Mind. What Error Leads Must Err.

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .