Things Bad Begun Make Strong Themselves By

O All You Host Of Heaven! O Earth! What Else? And Shall I Couple Hell?

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

Slander, Whose Whisper Over The World's Diameter, As Level As The Cannon To Its Blank, Transports Its Poisoned Shot.

Journeys End In Lovers Meeting.

What A Fool Honesty Is.