I Hold It Cowardice To

No Place Indeed Should Murder Sanctuarize; Revenge Should Have No Bounds.

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From The Heart.

Be Advised; Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself: We May Outrun, By Violent Swiftness, That Which We Run At, And Lose By Over-running. Know You Not, The Fire That Mounts The Liquor Til Run O'er, In Seeming To Augment It Wastes It?

Inconstancy Falls Off Ere It Begins.