The Error Of Our Eye Directs Our

For Brutus Is An Honourable Man; So Are They All, All Honourable Men.

Sigh No More Ladies, Sigh No More, Men Were Deceivers Ever

'tis Better To Bear The Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

Thou Hast Most Traitorously Corrupted The Youth Of The Realm In Erecting A Grammar School.