Thou Whoreson, Senseless Villain!

The Wound Of Peace Is Surety, Surety Secure; But Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise, The Tent That Searches To Th' Bottom Of The Worst.

An Two Men Ride Of A Horse, One Must Ride Behind.

What We Determine We Often Break. Purpose Is But The Slave To Memory.

And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built Anew, Grows Fairer Than At First, More Strong, Far Greater

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!