Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art

Being Your Slave What Should I Do But Tend, Upon The Hours, And Times Of Your Desire? I Have No Precious Time At All To Spend; Nor Services To Do Till You Require.

If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.

He Lives In Fame That Died In Virtue's Cause.

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold.