Throw Physic To The Dogs; I'll None

Why Should You Think That I Should Woo In Scorn? Scorn And Derision Never Come In Tears: Look, When I Vow, I Weep; And Vows So Born, In Their Nativity All Truth Appears. How Can These Things In Me Seem Scorn To You, Bearing The Badge Of Faith, To Prove Them True?

O King, Believe Not This Hard-hearted Man!

Thou Art The Mars Of Malcontents.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

At This Hour Lie At My Mercy All Mine Enemies.