The Good I Stand On Is My

Give To A Gracious Message An Host Of Tongues, But Let Ill Tidings Tell Themselves When They Be Felt.

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.

Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With Virtue.

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.