What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

Give Me My Sin Again.

We Came Into The World Like Brother And Brother, And Now Let's Go Hand In Hand, Not One Before Another.

Ay Me! For Aught That I Could Ever Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. But, Either It Was Different In Blood,- Or Else It Stood Upon The Choice Of Friends,- Or, If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness Did Lay Siege To It.

Too Much To Know Is To Know Naught But Fame.

Our Enemies Are Our Outward Consciences.