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Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

-William Shakespeare

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Supposition All Our Lives

William Shakespeare

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Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

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What A Piece Of Work Is A Man, How Noble In Reason, How Infinite In Faculties, In Form And Moving How Express And Admirable, In Action How Like An Angel, In Apprehension How Like A God.

Use Every Man According To His Desert And Who Should 'scape Whipping? Use Them After Your Own Honor And Dignity, The Less They Deserve ... The More Merit In Your Bounty.

Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

Cause And Effect

Tremble, Thou Wretch, That Hast Within Thee Undivulged Crimes Unwhipped Of Justice.

Ingrateful Man With Liquorish Draughts, And Morsels Unctuous, Greases His Pure Mind That From It All Consideration Slips.

Can It Be That Modesty May More Betray Our Sense Than Woman's Lightness? Having Waste Ground Enough, Shall We Desire To Raze The Sanctuary And Pitch Our Evils There?

Methinks You Are My Glass, And Not My Brother: I See By You I Am A Sweet-faced Youth.

For To Be Wise And Love Exceeds Man's Might.

All Men's Faces Are True, Whatsome'er Their Hands Are.

Alas, Poor Yorick! I Knew Him, Horatio: A Fellow Of Infinite Jest, Of Most Excellent Fancy: He Hath Borne Me On His Back A Thousand Times; And Now, How Abhorred In My Imagination It Is! My Gorge Rims At It. Here Hung Those Lips That I Have Kissed I Know Not How Oft. Where Be Your Gibes Now? Your Gambols? Your Songs? Your Flashes Of Merriment, That Were Wont To Set The Table On A Roar? Not One Now, To Mock Your Own Grinning? Quite Chap-fallen?

The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honor.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help You In Your Need.

Beauty Is Bought By Judgement Of The Eye.

Beautiful Women

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

Desperate Times Breed Desperate Measures

Desperate Measures

Desperate Times

So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What Complexion Soever.

Upon Thy Cheek I Lay This Zealous Kiss, As Seal To The Indenture Of My Love.

I Am Not In The Giving Vein Today.

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.

Within The Book And Volume Of Thy Brain.

Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire; Doubt That The Sun Doth Move; Doubt Truth To Be A Liar; But Never Doubt I Love.

Passion Lends Them Power, Time Means To Meet, Tempering Extremities With Extremes Sweet.

Do Not, As Some Ungracious Pastors Do, Show Me The Steep And Thorny Way To Heaven; Whilst, Like A Puff'd And Reckless Libertine, Himself The Primrose Path Of Dalliance Treads And Recks Not His Own Read.

Hamlet And Ophelia

Good With Out Evil Is Like Light With Out Darkness Which In Turn Is Like Righteousness Whith Out Hope.

Hardness Ever Of Hardness Is Mother.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbl'd Shore, So Do Our Minutes, Hasten To Their End.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides And Happiness Takes His Leave.

A Whoreson Jackanapes Must Take Me Up For Swearing; As If I Borrowed Mine Oaths Of Him And Might Not Spend Them At My Pleasure. When A Gentleman Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths, Ha?

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.

Were I The Moor I Would Not Be Iago. In Following Him I Follow But Myself; Heaven Is My Judge, Not I For Love And Duty, But Seeming So For My Peculiar End. For When My Outward Action Doth Demonstrate The Native Act And Figure Of My Heart In Compliment Extern, ’tis Not Long After But I Will Wear My Heart Upon My Sleeve For Daws To Peck At. I Am Not What I Am

Dead Shepherd, Now I Find Thy Saw Of Might. Whoever Lov'd That Lov'd Not At First Sight.

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

When Death Doth Close His Tender Dying Eyes.

Tell Me, Daughter Juliet, How Stands Your Dispositions To Be Married" It Is An Honor That I Dream Not Of

But Virtue Never Will Be Mov'd, Though Lewdness Court It In A Shape Of Heaven.

This Bud Of Love, By Summer's Ripening Breath, May Prove A Beauteous Flower When Next We Meet

Assume A Virtue, If You Have It Not. That Monster, Custom, Who All Sense Doth Eat, Of Habits Devil, Is Angel Yet In This, That To The Use Of Actions Fair And Good He Likewise Gives A Frock Or Livery That Aptly Is Put On. Refrain Tonight, And That Shall Lend A Kind Of Easiness To The Next Abstinence; The Next More Easy; For Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature.

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

Oh, God! I Have An Ill-divining Soul!

The Silence Often Of Pure Innocence Persuades When Speaking Fails.

The Barge She Sat In, Like A Burnish'd Throne, Burnt On The Water.

If Reasons Were As Plentiful As Blackberries, I Would Give No Man A Reason Upon Compulsion.

Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It.

Things Sweet To Taste Prove In Digestion Sour.

They Do Not Love That Do Not Show Their Love. The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. Love Is A Familiar. Love Is A Devil. There Is No Evil Angel But Love.

Simply The Thing That I Am Shall Make Me Live.

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds Admit Impediments: Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds.

A Very Scurvy Fellow.

What Have We Here? A Man Or A Fish? Dead Or Alive? A Fish: He Smells Like A Fish; A Very Ancient And Fishlike Smell; A Kind Of Not Of The Newest Poor-john. A Strange Fish!

He's Loved Of The Distracted Multitude, Who Like Not In Their Judgement, But Their Eyes.

Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

We Go To Gain A Little Patch Of Ground That Hath In It No Profit But The Name.

A Right Judgment Draws Us A Profit From All Things We See .

The Rarer Action Is In Virtue Than In Vengeance.

They Are In The Very Wrath Of Love, And They Will Go Together. Clubs Cannot Part Them

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed, When Not To Be, Receives Reproach Of Being, And The Just Pleasure Lost, Which Is So Deemed, Not By Our Feeling, But By Others' Seeing.

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

How Many Cowards Whose Hearts Are All As False As Stairs Of Sand, Wear Yet Upon Their Chins The Beards Of Hercules And Frowning Mars, Who Inward Searched, Have Livers White As Milk!

Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May.

Beauty Provoketh Thieves Sooner Than Gold.

That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls Him With Intelligence.

Who Is It That Can Tell Me Who I Am?

Write Till Your Ink Be Dry, And With Your Tears Moist It Again, And Frame Some Feeling Line That May Discover Such Integrity.

O Sleep, O Gentle Sleep, Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frightened Thee, 1710. That Thou No More Will Weigh My Eyelids Down, And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness?

Ever Note, Lucilius, When Love Begins To Sicken And Decay It Useth An Enforced Ceremony. There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith; But Hollow Men, Like Horses Hot At Hand, Make Gallant Show And Promise Of Their Mettle; But When They Should Endure The Bloody Spur, They Fall Their Crests, And Like Deceitful Jades Sink In The Trial.

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.

If I For My Opinion Bleed, Opinion Shall Be Surgeon To My Hurt, And Keep Me On The Side Where Still I Am.

April ... Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Everything.

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief.

All Dark And Comfortless.

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy: Life Is As Tedious As A Twice-told Tale Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man; And Bitter Shame Hath Spoil'd The Sweet World's Taste That It Yields Nought But Shame And Bitterness.

This Is A Gift That I Have, Simple, Simple; A Foolish Extravagant Spirit Full Of Forms, Figures, Shapes, Objects, Ideas, Apprehensions, Motions, Revolutions; These Are Begot In The Ventricle Of Memory, Nourished In The Womb Of Pia Mater, And Delivered Upon The Mellowing Of Occasion.

The One I Love Is The Son Of The One I Hate! -juliet P. 75

As Honour, Love, Obedience, Troops Of Friends, / I Must Not Look To Have; But, In Their Stead, / Curses, Not Loud But Deep, Mouth-honour, Breath, / Which The Poor Heart Would Fain Deny, And Dare Not" (5.3.25-28).

I Pray You Bear Me Henceforth From The Noise And Rumour Of The Field, Where I May Think The Remnant Of My Thoughts In Peace, And Part Of This Body And My Soul With Contemplation And Devout Desires.

He That Hath The Steerage Of My Course, Direct My Sail.

Too Much To Know Is To Know Nought But Fame; And Every Godfather Can Give A Name.

Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

This Tyrant, Whose Sole Name Blisters Our Tongues,was Once Thought Honest.

Now 'tis Spring, And Weeds Are Shallow-rooted; Suffer Them Now And They'll O'ergrow The Garden.

The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous Gentleman; And To Be King Stands Not Within The Prospect Of Belief, No More Than To Be Cawdor.

For Youth No Less Becomes The Light And Careless Livery That It Wears, Than Settled Age His Sables, And His Weeds Importing Health And Graveness.

If Chance Will Have Me King, Why, Chance May Crown Me.

And Oftentimes Excusing Of A Fault Doth Make The Fault The Worse By The Excuse.

Alas, Our Frailty Is The Cause , Not We! For, Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

Gentle And Low, An Excellent Thing In Woman.

Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

Justice Always Whirls In Equal Measure.

I Never Yet Did Hear, That The Bruis'd Heart Was Pierced Through The Ear

For The Success, Although Particular, Shall Give A Scantling Of Good Or Bad Unto The General; And In Such Indexes, Although Small Pricks To Their Subsequent Volumes, There Is Seen The Baby Figure Of The Giant Mass Of Things To Come At Large.

I 'gin To Be Aweary Of The Sun, And Wish Th' Estate O' Th' World Were Now Undone.

So, You Are Very Welcome To Our House. It Must Appear In Other Ways Than Words, Therefore, I Scant This Breathing Courtesy.

O Fortune, Fortune! All Men Call Thee Fickle.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

If The Masses Can Love Without Knowing Why, They Also Hate Without Much Foundation.

Yield Not Thy Neck To Fortunes Yoke, But Let Thy Dauntless Mind Still Ride In Triumph Over All Mischance.

Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons." -- (miranda, I:2)

If [god] Send Me No Husband, For The Which Blessing I Am At Him Upon My Knees Every Morning And Evening.

So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That Feeds On Men.

Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

Like One Who Having Into Truth, By Telling Of It, Made Such A Sinner Of His Memory, To Credit His Own Lie.

Greatness, Once Fallen Out With Fortune, Must Fall Out With Men Too.

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.

Send Danger From The East Unto The West, So Honor Cross It From The North To South.

Take But Degree Away, Untune That String, And Hark, What Discord Follows!

Now I Will Believe That There Are Unicorns.

O Sir, You Are Old; Nature In You Stands On The Very Verge Of Her Confine; You Should Be Ruled And Led By Some Discretion, That Discerns Your Fate Better Than You Yourself.

He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next.

When I Was At Home I Was In A Better Place

That God Forbid, That Made Me First Your Slave, I Should In Thought Control Your Times Of Pleasure, Or At Your Hand Th' Account Of Hours To Crave, Being Your Vassal Bound To Stay Your Leisure.

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face.

Two Lovely Berries Moulded On One Stem; So, With Two Seeming Bodies, But One Heart.

I'll Never Be Such A Gosling To Obey Instinct, But Stand As Is A Man Were Author Of Himself And Knew No Other Kin.

I Will Do Anything, Nerissa, Ere I'll Be Married To A Sponge.

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.

Sometimes, Less Is More.

The Weakest Goes To The Wall.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

Thou Art As Tyrannous, So As Thou Art, As Those Whose Beauties Proudly Make Them Cruel; For Well Thou Know'st To My Dear Doting Heart Thou Art The Fairest And Most Precious Jewel.

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

This Above All; To Thine Own Self Be True.

Good Morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All In The Morn Betime, And I A Maid At Your Window, To Be Your Valentine.

O God, That Men Should Put An Enemy In Their Mouths To Steal Away Their Brains!" - Cassio (act Ii, Scene Iii)

Die For Adultery! No: The Wren Goes To't, And The Small Gilded Fly Does Lecher In My Sight

Thou Hast The Most Unsavoury Similes.

I Have Set My Life Upon A Cast, And I Will Stand The Hazard Of The Die.

Fill All Thy Bones With Aches.

All Pride Is Willing Pride.

That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now, And For That Sorrow, Which I Then Did Feel, Needs Must I Under My Transgression Bow, Unless My Nerves Were Brass Or Hammered Steel.

Honesty Is Not The Best Policy - Merely The Safest

Few Love To Hear The Sins They Love To Act.

Be Merry; You Have Cause, So Have We All, Of Joy; For Our Escape Is Much Beyond Our Loss . . . . Then Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies; Of His Bones Are Coral Made; Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes; Nothing Of Him That Doth Fade, But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange. Sea-nymphs Hourly Ring His Knell: Ding-dong. Hark! Now I Hear Them — Ding-dong, Bell.

No Reckoning Made, But Sent To My Account With All My Imperfections On My Head.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!

O, I Have Suffered With Those That I Saw Suffer! A Brave Vessel (who Had No Doubt Some Noble Creature In Her) Dashed All To Pieces! O, The Cry Did Knock Against My Very Heart! Poor Souls, They Perished!

I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of Humility.

A Horse, A Horse, My Kingdom For A Horse!

If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

O Heaven! Were Man, But Constant, He Were Perfect.

Rumor Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures.

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness.

Romeo And Juliet Love

How Hard It Is To Hide The Sparks Of Nature!

Thus Can The Demigod Authority Make Us Pay Down For Our Offense By Weight The Words Of Heaven; On Whom It Will, It Will, On Whom It Will Not, So: Yet Still 'tis Just.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

I Was A Coward On Instinct.

Experience Teacheth Us That Resolution 's A Sole Help At Need: And This, My Lord, Our Honour Teacheth Us, That We Be Bold In Every Enterprise: Then Since There Is No Way, But Fight Or Die, Be Resolute, My Lord, For Victory.

The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The Valiant, Only Once!

I Have No Way And Therefore Want No Eyes I Stumbled When I Saw. Full Oft 'tis Seen Our Means Secure Us, And Our Mere Defects Prove Our Commodities.

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear

Lords, I Protest My Soul Is Full Of Woe That Blood Should Sprinkle Me To Make Me Grow. Come, Mourn With Me For What I Do Lament, And Put Sullen Black Incontinent. I'll Make A Voyage To The Holy Land To Wash This Blood Off From My Guilty Hand. March Sadly After. Grace My Mournings Here In Weeping After This Untimely Bier.

You Lie, In Faith; For You Are Call'd Plain Kate, And Bonny Kate And Sometimes Kate The Curst; But Kate, The Prettiest Kate In Christendom Kate Of Kate Hall, My Super-dainty Kate, For Dainties Are All Kates, And Therefore, Kate, Take This Of Me, Kate Of My Consolation; Hearing Thy Mildness Praised In Every Town, Thy Virtues Spoke Of, And Thy Beauty Sounded, Yet Not So Deeply As To Thee Belongs, Myself Am Moved To Woo Thee For My Wife.

I Pray Thee Cease Thy Counsel, Which Falls Into Mine Ears As Profitless As Water In A Sieve.

'tis Not Enough To Help The Feeble Up, But To Support Them After.

I Shall Laugh Myself To Death At This Puppy-headed Monster!

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

The Clock Upbraids Me With The Waste Of Time.

Though It Make The Unskillful Laugh, Cannot But Make The Judicious Grieve.

The Gallantry Of His Grief Did Put Me Into A Towering Passion.

Tush! Fear Not, My Lord, We Will Not Stand To Prate; Talkers Are No Good Doers: Be Assured We Come To Use Our Hands And Not Our Tongues.

My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's My Love.

Words, Vows, Gifts, Tears, And Love's Full Sacrifice, He Offers In Another's Enterprise; But More In Troilus Thousand-fold I See Than In The Glass Of Pandar's Praise May Be, Yet Hold I Off.

Stones Have Been Known To Move And Trees To Speak.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.

I'll Be Damned For Never A King's Son In Christendom.

Ah Me, How Weak A Thing The Heart Of Woman Is!

A Wild Dedication Of Yourselves To Undiscovered Waters, Undreamed Shores.

Policy Sits Above Conscience.

Bosom Upon My Counsel; You'll Find It Wholesome.

There Is Flattery In Friendship.

Vice Repeated Is Like The Wandering Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eyes To Spread Itself.

You Great Benefactors, Sprinkle Our Society With Thankfulness. For Your Own Gifts, Make Yourselves Praised.

Sir, The Year Growing Ancient, Not Yet On Summer's Death Nor On The Birth Of Trembling Winter, The Fairest Flowers O' Th' Season Are Our Carnations And Streaked Gillyvors, Which Some Call Nature's Bastards.

Why, Who Cries Out On Pride That Can Therein Tax Any Private Party? Doth It Not Flow As Hugely As The Sea Till The Weary Very Means Do Ebb?

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

So. Lie There, My Art.

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

Here Comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With His Mouth Full Of News. Celia: Which He Will Put On Us, As Pigeons Feed Their Young. Rosalind: Then Shall We Be News-crammed. Celia: All The Better; We Shall Be The More Marketable.

I Am Your Wife If You Will Marry Me. If Not, I'll Die Your Maid. To Be Your Fellow You May Deny Me, But I'll Be Your Servant Whether You Will Or No.

Then Let Thy Love Be Younger Than Thyself, Or Thy Affection Cannot Hold The Bent.

Beauty, Wit, High Birth, Vigour Of Bone, Desert In Service, Love, Friendship, Charity, Are Subjects All To Envious And Calumniating Time.

All Things Are Ready, If Our Mind Be So.

Like One Who Draws The Model Of A House Beyond His Power To Build It Who, Half Through, Gives O'er, And Leaves His Part-created Cost A Naked Subject To The Weeping Clouds.

Unsubstantial Death Is Amorous.

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

Merchant Of Venice

Love, Therefore, And Tongue-tied Simplicity In Least Speak Most, To My Capacity.

That Truth Should Be Silent I Had Almost Forgot. (enobarbus)

I Love Thee So, That, Maugre All Thy Pride, Nor Wit Nor Reason Can My Passion Hide. Do Not Extort Thy Reasons From This Clause, For That I Woo, Thou Therefore Hast No Cause But Rather Reason Thus With Reason Fetter, Love Sought Is Good, But Given Unsought Better.

A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Fool's Ear.

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.

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