A Cup Of Hot Wine With Not

His Life Was Gentle; And The Elements So Mixed In Him, That Nature Might Stand Up And Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

I Do I Know Not What, And Fear To Find Mine Eye Too Great A Flatterer For My Mind. Fate, Show Thy Force. Ourselves We Do Not Owe. What Is Decreed Must Be; And Be This So.

O For A Horse With Wings!

No Visor Does Become Black Villainy So Well As Soft And Tender Flattery.