Cowards Die Many Times; A Brave Man

No Matter Where; Of Comfort No Man Speak: Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth

You Cram These Words Into Mine Ears Against The Stomach Of My Sense.

What's Brave, What's Noble, Let's Do It After The Roman Fashion.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight.

Of All Complexions The Culled Sovereignty Do Meet, As At A Fair, In Her Fair Cheek, Where Several Worthies Make One Dignity, Where Nothing Wants That Want Itself Doth Seek.