Excellent Wretch! Perdition Catch My Soul But

And In The Morn And Liquid Dew Of Youth, Contagious Blastments Are Are Most Imminent.

Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors Accumulate.

We Make Trifles Of Terrors, Ensconcing Ourselves Into Seeming Knowledge, When We Should Submit Ourselves To An Unknown Fear.

Every True Man's Apparel Fits Your Thief.

I Am Disgraced, Impeached, And Baffled Here, Pierced To The Soul With Slander's Venomed Spear.