He Is Not Great Who Is Not

Give Me To Drink Mandragora.

My Cake Is Dough, But I'll In Among The Rest, Out Of Hope Of All But My Share Of The Feast.

O, My Lord, You Said That Idle Weeds Are Fast In Growth: The Prince My Brother Hath Outgrown Me Far.

Lay Not That Flattering Unction To Your Soul, That Not Your Trespass But My Madness Speaks.

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind