The Hand That Hath Made You Fair

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

Foul Cankering Rust The Hidden Treasure Frets, But Gold That's Put To Use More Gold Begets.

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

Time's Glory Is To Command Contending Kings, To Unmask Falsehood, And Bring Truth To Light.

What, With My Tongue In Your Tail? Nay, Come Again, Good Kate; I Am A Gentleman.