And Some That Smile Have In Their

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.

Lawn As White As Driven Snow; Cyprus Black As E'er Was Crow; Gloves As Sweet As Damask Roses.

Cowards Die Many Times; A Brave Man Dies But Once.

I Am One, Sir, That Comes To Tell You Your Daughter And The Moor Are Now Making The Beast With Two Backs.(iago,acti,scenei)