Love Is A Spirit All Compact Of

Merciful Heaven, Thou Rather With Thy Sharp And Sulphurous Bolt Splits The Unwedgeable And Gnarled Oak Than The Soft Myrtle; But Man, Proud Man, Dressed In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured His Glassy Essence--like An Angry Ape Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven As Makes The Angels Weep; Who, With Our Spleens, Would All Themselves Laugh Mortal.

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue.

If Our Virtues Did Not Go Forth Of Us, It Were All Alike As If We Had Them Not.

Men Must Learn Now With Pity To Dispense; For Policy Sits Above Conscience.

One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts.