Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors

There Is None But He Whose Being I Do Fear; And Under Him My Genius Is Rebuked, As It Is Said Mark Antony's Was By Caesar.

We Make Ourselves Fools To Disport Ourselves And Spend Our Flatteries To Drink Those Men Upon Whose Age We Void It Up Again With Poisonous Spite And Envy.

Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of Courtesy.

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.

Silence Is Only Commendable In A Neat's Tongue Dried, And A Maid Not Vendible.