There's Hope A Great Man's Memory May

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.

A Friend Should Bear His Friend's Infirmities.

The Bitter Past, More Welcome Is The Sweet.