The Seeming Truth Which Cunning Times Put

He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fullness Of Perfection Lies In Him.

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?

Your Gentleness Shall Force More Than Your Force Move Us To Gentleness.

For Brutus, As You Know, Was Caesar's Angel: Judge, O You Gods, How Dearly Caesar Loved Him! This Was The Most Unkindest Cut Of All

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.