Tears Harden Lust, Though Marble Wear With

Nothing Routs Us But The Villainy Of Our Fears.

Lechery, Lechery; Still, Wars And Lechery: Nothing Else Holds Fashion.

Let Me Be Ignorant, And In Nothing Good, But Graciously To Know I Am No Better.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall Up With Our English Dead! In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger.

Rest You Fair, Good Signior; Your Worship Was The Last Man In Our Mouths.