Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen

Every Man Has His Fault, And Honesty Is His.

Unhappy That I Am, I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth.

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

If Money Go Before, All Ways Do Lie Open.

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