He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He

From This Time Forth My Thoughts Be Bloody, Or Be Nothing Worth!

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

When A Man's Verses Cannot Be Understood, Nor A Man's Good Wit Seconded With The Forward Child Understanding, It Strikes A Man More Dead Than A Great Reckoning In A Little Room. Truly, I Would The Gods Had Made Thee Poetical.

I Do Desire We May Be Better Strangers.

Wine Loved I Deeply, Dice Dearly.