What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak

Have You Not A Moist Eye, A Dry Hand, A Yellow Cheek, A White Beard, A Decreasing Leg, An Increasing Belly? Is Not Your Voice Broken, Your Wind Short, Your Chin Double, Your Wit Single, And Every Part About You Blasted With Antiquity?

Prosperity's The Very Bond Of Love, Whose Fresh Complexion And Whose Heart Together Affliction Alters.

There Is Some Soul Of Goodness In Things Evil, Would Men Observingly Distill It Out.

I Cannot Speak Your England.

When Lenity And Cruelty Play For A Kingdom, The Gentler Gamester Is The Soonest Winner