This Is The Jew That Shakespeare Drew.

Revenge, That Thirsty Dropsy Of Our Souls, Makes Us Covet That Which Hurts Us Most.

Virgin Me No Virgins! I Must Have You Lose That Name, Or You Lose Me.

I Had Not To This Time Subsisted, But That I Was Supported By Your Frequent Courtesies And Favours.

Giants In Their Promises, But Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance.

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.