Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.

Strong reasons make strong actions.

My wits begin to turn.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.