Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than

They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit.

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

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

The Love Of Wicked Men Converts To Fear; That Fear To Hate, And Hate Turns One Or Both To Worthy Danger And Deserved Death.