The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of

The Fool Multitude, That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach.

Thy Best Of Rest Is Sleep, And That Thou Oft Provok'st; Yet Grossly Fear'st Thy Death, Which Is No More.

I Wonder Men Dare Trust Themselves With Men.

Lady, You Are The Cruel'st She Alive If You Will Lead These Graces To The Grave And Leave The World No Copy.

Use Every Man According To His Desert And Who Should 'scape Whipping? Use Them After Your Own Honor And Dignity, The Less They Deserve ... The More Merit In Your Bounty.