The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

In Jest, There Is Truth.

This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love.

Doubting Things Go Ill Often Hurts More Than To Be Sure They Do; For Certainties Either Are Past Remedies, Or, Timely Knowing, The Remedy Then Born.