I Pardon Him, As God

Let The Galled Jade Wince; Our Withers Are Unwrung.

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy: Life Is As Tedious As A Twice-told Tale Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man; And Bitter Shame Hath Spoil'd The Sweet World's Taste That It Yields Nought But Shame And Bitterness.

No, No; 'tis All Men's Office To Speak Patience To Those That Wring Under The Load Of Sorrow, But No Man's Virtue Nor Sufficiency To Be So Moral When He Shall Endure The Like Himself. Therefore Give Me No Counsel: My Griefs Cry Louder Than Advertisement.

Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

Beauty Itself Doth Of Itself Persuade The Eyes Of Men Without An Orator.