The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror Up To Nature.

O, The Difference Of Man And Man! To Thee A Woman's Services Are Due.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of All.