Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

Live How We Can, Yet Die We Must.

Listen To Many, Speak To A Few.

The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush, With Trembling Wings Misdoubteth Every Bush.

Gratiano Speaks An Infinite Deal Of Nothing, More Than Any Man In All Venice. His Reasons Are As Two Grains Of Wheat Hid In Two Bushels Of Chaff: You Shall Seek All Day Ere You Find Them, And When You Have Them, They Are Not Worth The Search.

Ere I Could Make Thee Open Thy White Hand, And Clap Thyself My Love; Then Didst Thou Utter, I Am Your's For Ever!