Knavery's Plain Face Is Never Seen Till

All Fancy-sick She Is And Pale Of Cheer, With Sighs Of Love, That Costs The Fresh Blood Dear.

Tis The Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead The Blind.

What We Determine We Often Break. Purpose Is But The Slave To Memory.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

A Whoreson Jackanapes Must Take Me Up For Swearing; As If I Borrowed Mine Oaths Of Him And Might Not Spend Them At My Pleasure. When A Gentleman Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths, Ha?