Thou Speak'st Like Him's Untutored To Repeat:

Because I Cannot Flatter And Look Fair, Smile In Men's Faces, Smooth, Deceive, And Cog, Duck With French Nods And Apish Courtesy, I Must Be Held A Rancorous Enemy.

I'll Make Death Love Me; For I Will Contend Even With His Pestilent Scythe.

To Offend And Judge Are Distinct Offices, And Of Opposed Natures.

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

I Speak Of Peace, While Covert Enmity Under The Smile Of Safety Wounds The World