O, While You Live, Tell Truth, And

No, Cassius; For The Eye Sees Not Itself, But By Reflection, By Some Other Things.

Macbeth To Witches: What Are These So Wither'd And So Wild In Their Attire, That Look Not Like Th' Inhabitants O' Th' Earth, And Yet Are On 't?

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!

The Most Peerless Piece Of Earth, I Think, That E' Er The Sun Shone Bright On.