What A Fool Honesty Is.

I Will Be Correspondent To Command, And Do My Spiriting Gently.

And My Poor Fool Is Hanged! No, No, No Life! Why Should A Dog, A Horse, A Rat, Have Life, And Thou No Breath At All? Thou'lt Come No More, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray You, Undo This Button.

Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

The Moon Of Rome, Chaste As The Icicle That's Curded By The Frost From Purest Snow.

When Our Actions Do Not, Our Fears Make Us Traitors.