Slander Lives Upon Succession, For Ever Housed

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head.

He That Hath A Beard Is More Than A Youth, And He That Hath No Beard Is Less Than A Man. He That Is More Than A Youth Is Not For Me, And He That Is Less Than A Man, I Am Not For Him.

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

Romeo There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murders In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell. I Sell Thee Poison; Thou Hast Sold Me None. Farewell: Buy Food, And Get Thyself In Flesh. Come, Cordial And Not Poison, Go With Me To Juliet's Grave; For There Must I Use Thee.