When The Age Is In, The Wit

The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them; The Good Is Oft Interred With Their Bones.

What, All So Soon Asleep! I Wish Mine Eyes Would, With Themselves, Shut Up My Thoughts.

Beauty Lives With Kindness.

So Many Hours Must I Take My Rest; So Many Hours Must I Contemplate.

If Little Faults Proceeding On Distemper Shall Not Be Winked At, How Shall We Stretch Our Eye When Capital Crimes, Chewed, Swallowed, And Digested, Appear Before Us?