I Never Yet Did Hear,

All Pride Is Willing Pride.

I'll Never Be Such A Gosling To Obey Instinct, But Stand As Is A Man Were Author Of Himself And Knew No Other Kin.

A Glooming Peace This Morning With It Brings; The Sun, For Sorrow, Will Not Show His Head: Go Hence, To Have More Talk Of These Sad Things; Some Shall Be Pardon'd, And Some Punished: For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.