Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

Conceal Me What I Am, And Be My Aid For Such Disguise As Haply Shall Become The Form Of My Intent.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

A Man Should Be What He Seems.

Let Witchcraft Join With Beauty, Lust With Both!

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.