My Father's Wit, And My Mother's Tongue,

O God, That Men Should Put An Enemy In Their Mouths To Steal Away Their Brains!" - Cassio (act Ii, Scene Iii)

We Go To Gain A Little Patch Of Ground That Hath In It No Profit But The Name.

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

I Hold It Cowardice To Rest Mistrustful Where A Noble Heart Hath Pawned An Open Hand In Sign Of Love.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.