My Thoughts And I Were Of Another

Get Money, Still Get Money, Boy, No Matter By What Means.

A Good Man Will Avoid The Spot Of Any Sin. The Very Aspersion Is Grievous, Which Makes Him Choose His Way In His Life, As He Would In His Journey.

Still To Be Neat, Still To Be Drest, As You Were Going To A Feast, Still To Be Powder'd, All Perfum'd. Lady, It Is To Be Presumed, Though Art's Hid Causes Are Not Found, All Is Not Sweet, All Is Not Sound.

I Remember, The Players Have Often Mentioned It As An Honour To Shakespeare, That In His Writing (whatsoever He Penned) He Never Plotted Out A Line. My Answer Hath Been, Would He Had Blotted A Thousand.

Were Guilt Is, Rage And Courage Doth Abound.