Ideas Are The Very Coinage

My Joy Is Death- Death, At Whose Name I Oft Have Been Afeard, Because I Wish'd This World's Eternity.

Heaven Truly Knows That Thou Art False As Hell.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

The Moon Of Rome, Chaste As The Icicle That's Curded By The Frost From Purest Snow.

Such Men As He Be Never At Heart's Ease Whiles They Behold A Greater Than Themselves, And Therefore Are They Very Dangerous.