Tears Harden Lust, Though Marble Wear With

Ingratitude Is Monstrous; And For The Multitude To Be Ingrateful Were To Make A Monster Of The Multitude; Of Which We Being Members, Should Bring Ourselves To Be Monstrous Members.

Let Me, If Not By Birth, Have Lands By Wit; All With Me's Meet That I Can Fashion Fit.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

Virtue's Office Never Breaks Men's Troth.

Wrong Hath But Wrong, And Blame The Due Of Blame.