Thy Wit Is A Very Bitter Sweeting;

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind

O, I Do Not Like That Paying Back, 'tis A Double Labor.

I Have A Bone To Pick With Fate

A Man Should Be What He Seems.