O, Had I But Followed The Arts!

O Death, Made Proud With Pure And Princely Beauty!

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.

Nature's Tears Are Reason's Merriment.

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

Into What Dangers Would You Lead Me, Cassius, That You Would Have Me Seek Into Myself For That Which Is Not In Me?