Tis Immortality To Die Aspiring, As If

Perfect Happiness, By Princes Sought, Is Not With Birth Born, Nor Exchequers Bought.

And Let A Scholar All Earth's Volumes Carry, He Will Be But A Walking Dictionary: A Mere Articulate Clock.

Words Writ In Waters.

Let Pride Go Afore, Shame Will Follow After.

Blood, Though It Sleep A Time, Yet Never Dies. The Gods On Murtherers Fix Revengeful Eyes.