Here Will Be An Old Abusing Of

Thou Hast No Figures Nor No Fantasies Which Busy Care Draws In The Brains Of Men; Therefore Thou Sleep'st So Sound.

How Low Am I, Thou Painted Maypole?

Do As The Heavens Have Done, Forget Your Evil; With Them Forgive Yourself.

You Must Not Think That We Are Made Of Stuff So Fat And Dull That We Can Let Our Beard Be Shook With Danger And Think It Pastime.

Society Is No Comfort, To One Not Sociable.