Ready Writing Makes Not Good Writing, But

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.

I See Compassion May Become A Justice, Though It Be A Weakness, I Confess, And Nearer A Vice Than A Virtue.

Cut Men's Throats With Whisperings.

Of All Wild Beasts Preserve Me From A Tyrant; And Of All Tame A Flatterer.

All Discourses But My Own Afflict Me; They Seem Harsh, Impertinent, And Irksome