What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine

What E'er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part.

Mine Honor Is My Life, Both Grow In One. Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done. Then, Dear My Liege, Mine Honor Let Me Try; In That I Live, And For That I Will Die.

You Told A Lie, An Odious Damned Lie; Upon My Soul, A Lie, A Wicked Lie.

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence