Who Is It That Can

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

All Men's Faces Are True, Whatsome'er Their Hands Are.

Unnatural Deeds Do Breed Unnatural Troubles.

I Would Give All Of My Fame For A Pot Of Ale And Safety.

I Do Not Seek To Quench Your Love's Hot Fire, But Qualify The Fire's Extreme Rage, Lest It Should Burn Above The Bounds Of Reason.