Whereto Serves Mercy But To Confront The

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

For 'tis The Sport To Have The Engineer Hoist With His Own Petar; And't Shall Go Hard But I Will Delve One Yard Below Their Mines And Blow Them At The Moon.

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.

The Quality Of Nothing Hath Not Such Need To Hide Itself

The Appurtenance Of Welcome Is Fashion And Ceremony.