I Had Rather Be A Dog, And

I Will Through And Through Cleanse The Foul Body Of Th' Infected World, If They Will Patiently Receive My Medicine.

I Had Rather Be A Dog, And Bay The Moon, Than Such A Roman.

For Murder, Though It Have No Tongue, Will Speak With Most Miraculous Organ.

Why, All Delights Are Vain, But That Most Vain Which, With Pain Purchased, Doth Inherit Pain: As, Painfully To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth, Which Truth The While Doth Falsely Blind The Eyesight Of His Look.

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.