He Threatens Many That Hath

If All You Boast Of Your Great Art Be True; Sure, Willing Poverty Lives Most In You.

Our Whole Life Is Like A Play.

Who Falls For Love Of God, Shall Rise A Star.

I Remember, The Players Have Often Mentioned It As An Honour To Shakespeare, That In His Writing (whatsoever He Penned) He Never Plotted Out A Line. My Answer Hath Been, Would He Had Blotted A Thousand.

Nor Shall Our Cups Make Any Guilty Men; But At Our Parting, We Will Be, As When We Innocently Met.