Ignorance Is The Curse Of God; Knowledge

By-and-by Is Easily Said.

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made, That Millions Of Strange Shadows On You Tend? Since Everyone Hath Every One, One Shade, And You, But One, Can Every Shadow Lend. Describe Adonis, And The Counterfeit Is Poorly Imitated After You. On Helen’s Cheek All Art Of Beauty Set, And You In Grecian Tires Are Painted New. Speak Of The Spring And Foison Of The Year; The One Doth Shadow Of Your Beauty Show, The Other As Your Bounty Doth Appear, And You In Every Blessèd Shape We Know. In All External Grace You Have Some Part, But You Like None, None You, For Constant Heart.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears; I Come To Bury Caesar, Not To Praise Him.

This Is No Time To Lend Money, Especially Upon Bare Friendship Without Security.