The Truest Poetry Is The Most Feigning.

Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of The Wise.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.

If I Shall Be Condemned Upon Surmises, All Proofs Sleeping Else But What Your Jealousies Awake, I Tell You 'tis Rigor And Not Law.

Why Are Our Bodies Soft, And Weak, And Smooth But That Our Soft Conditions And Our Hearts Should Well Agree With Our External Parts?