We Must Love Men, Ere To Us

Thy Wit Is A Very Bitter Sweeting; It Is A Most Sharp Sauce.

Making Night Hideous.

I Would Give All Of My Fame For A Pot Of Ale And Safety.

I Am A Jew: Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions? Fed With Die Same Food, Hurt With The Same Weapons, Subject To The Same Diseases, Healed By The Same Means, Warmed And Cooled By The Same Winter And Summer, As A Christian Is?

O Comfort-killing Night, Image Of Hell, Dim Register And Notary Of Shame, Black Stage For Tragedies And Murders Fell, Vast Sin-concealing Chaos, Nurse Of Blame!