The Over Curious Are Not Over Wise.

Honour Is Virtue's Allowed Ascent: Honour That Clasps All Perfect Justice In Her Arms; That Craves No More Respect Than That She Gives; That Does Nothing But What She'll Suffer.

Before We End Our Pilgrimage, 'tis Fit That We Should Leave Corruption, And Foul Sin, Behind Us, But With Wash'd Feet And Hands, The Heathens Dar' Not Enter Their Profane Temples; And For Me To Hope My Passage To Eternity Can Be Made Easy, Till I Have Shook Off The Burthen Of My Sins In Free Confession, Aided With Sorrow, And Repentance For Them, Is Against Reason.

Shall This Nectar Run Useless, Then, To Waste? Or ... These Lips, That Open Like The Morn, Breathing Perfumes, On Such As Dare Approach Them, Be Untouch'd? They Must--nay, 'tis In Vain To Make Resistance-- Be Often Kissed And Tasted.

Though The Desire Of Fame Be The Last Weakness Wise Men Put Off.

This Is The Jew That Shakespeare Drew.