Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

Till All Grace Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace.

What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

I Will Not Trust You, I, Nor Longer Stay In Your Curst Company. Your Hands Than Mine Are Quicker For A Fray, My Legs Are Longer Though, To Run Away.

If She Be Fair And Wise, Fairness And Wit, The One's For Use, The Other Useth It.