The People Are The City.

Though It Be Honest, It Is Never Good To Bring Bad News.

I Stalk About Her Door, Like A Strange Soul Upon The Stygian Banks Staying For Waftage.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

A Woman Moved Is Like A Fountain Troubled, Muddy, Ill-seeming, Thick, Bereft Of Beauty.

Let Me Tell You, Cassius, You Yourself Are Much Condemned To Have An Itching Palm.