Nothing Comes Amiss, So Money Comes Withal.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.

Against Self-slaughter There Is A Prohibition So Divine That Cravens My Weak Hand.

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

As He Was Valiant, I Honour Him. But As He Was Ambitious, I Slew Him.