That Old Bald Cheater, Time.

When A Virtuous Man Is Raised, It Brings Gladness To His Friends, Grief To His Enemies, And Glory To His Posterity.

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.

Let Argument Bear No Unmusical Sound.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.

A Thankful Man Owes A Courtesy Ever; The Unthankful But When He Needs It.