Well, If Fortune Be A Woman, She's

The Art Of Our Necessities Is Strange That Can Make Vile Things Precious.

There's Not A Shirt And A Half In All My Company, And The Half Shirt Is Two Napkins Tacked Together And Thrown Over The Shoulders Like A Herald's Coat Without Sleeves.

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

Reason Thus With Life: If I Do Lose Thee, I Do Lose A Thing That None But Fools Would Keep.

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.