Conceit In Weakest Bodies Works The Strongest.

'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.

Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

Whether 'tis Nobler In The Mind To Suffer The Slings And Arrows Of Outrageous Fortune, Or To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles, And By Opposing End Them?

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

Thy Tongue Makes Welsh As Sweet As Ditties Highly Penn'd, Sung By A Fair Queen In A Summer's Bower, With Ravishing Division, To Her Lute.