Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns

Grim-visaged War Hath Smoothed His Wrinkled Front; And Now, Instead Of Mounting Barbed Steeds To Fright The Souls Of Fearful Adversaries, He Capers Nimbly In A Lady's Chamber To The Lascivious Pleasing Of A Lute.

A Light Wife Doth Make A Heavy Husband.

I Despised My Arrival On This Earth And I Despise My Departure; It Is A Tragedy.

What Else May Hap, To Time I Will Commit.

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.