The Dullness Of The Fool Is The

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

They That Stand High Have Many Blasts To Shake Them.

That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect, For Slander's Mark Was Ever Yet The Fair; The Ornament Of Beauty Is Suspect, A Crow That Flies In Heaven's Sweetest Air.

When The Sea Was Calm All Ships Alike Showed Mastership In Floating.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers