Taste Your Legs, Sire: Put

The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honor.

The Play's The Thing, Wherein I'll Catch The Conscience Of The King.

Season Your Admiration For A While.

Direct Not Him Whose Way Himself Will Choose; 'tis Breath Not Lack'st, And That Breath Wilt Thou Lose.

If To Do Were As Easy As To Know What Were Good To Do, Chapels Had Been Churches, And Poor Men’s Cottages Princes’ Palaces. It Is A Good Divine That Follows His Own Instructions: I Can Easier Teach Twenty What Were Good To Be Done, Than Be One Of The Twenty To Follow Mine Own Teaching.