Soft Pity Enters An Iron Gate.

I Will Not Be Sworn But Love May Transform Me To An Oyster

Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits That Have Dared On This Unworthy Scaffold To Bring Forth So Great An Object.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!

The Due Of Honor In No Point Omit.

There's Many A Man Hath More Hair Than Wit.