Secret Guilt Is By Silence Revealed.

As Poetry Is The Harmony Of Words, So Music Is That Of Notes.

Heaven Be Thanked, We Live In Such An Age, When No Man Dies For Love, But On The Stage.

Words Are But Pictures Of Our Thoughts.

It's A Hard World, Neighbors, If A Man's Oath Must Be His Master.

But Shakespeare's Magic Could Not Copied Be; Within That Circle None Durst Walk But He.