We Cannot All Be Masters.

Are You Sure/that We Are Awake? It Seems To Me/that Yet We Sleep, We Dream

Profit Is A Blessing, If It's Not Stolen.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

So, Good Night Unto You All. Give Me Your Hands, If We Be Friends, And Robin Shall Restore Amends.

Lord, Lord, How Subject We Old Men Are To This Vice Of Lying!