The Web Of Our Life Is Of

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

We Make Trifles Of Terrors, Ensconcing Ourselves Into Seeming Knowledge, When We Should Submit Ourselves To An Unknown Fear.

Ere Yet The Salt Of Most Unrighteous Tears Had Left The Flushing Of Her Gallèd Eyes, She Married. O, Most Wicked Speed, To Post With Such Dexterity To Incestuous Sheets!

When Law Can Do No Right, Let It Be Lawful That Law Bar No Wrong.

Like Madness, Is The Glory Of This Life.