O, Let Him Pass. He Hates Him

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

And Keep You In The Rear Of Your Affection, Out Of The Shot And Danger Of Desire, The Chariest Maid Is Prodigal Enough If She Unmasks Her Beauty To The Moon.

And It Is Very Much Lamented,... That You Have No Such Mirrors As Will Turn Your Hidden Worthiness Into Your Eye That You Might See Your Shadow.

Men That Hazard All Do It In Hope Of Fair Advantages: A Golden Mind Stoops Not To Shows Of Dross.