Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself And

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

The Better Part Of Valor Is Discretion, In The Which Better Part I Have Saved My Life.

Ideas Are The Very Coinage Of Your Brain.

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

O, That This Too Too Solid Flesh Would Melt Thaw And Resolve Itself Into A Dew! Or That The Everlasting Had Not Fix'd His Canon 'gainst Self-slaughter! O God! God! How Weary, Stale, Flat And Unprofitable, (135) Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World! Fie On't! Ah Fie! 'tis An Unweeded Garden, That Grows To Seed; Things Rank And Gross In Nature Possess It Merely. That It Should Come To This! But Two Months Dead: Nay, Not So Much, Not Two: (140) So Excellent A King; That Was, To This.