Two Lovely Berries Moulded On One Stem;

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.