I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law

I See, Sir, You Are Liberal In Offers. You Taught Me First To Beg, And Now Methinks You Teach Me How A Beggar Should Be Answered.

Men Must Endure Their Going Hence, Even As Their Coming Hither. Ripeness Is All.

The Hideous God Of War.

I Think Thy Horse Will Sooner Con An Oration Than Thou Learn A Prayer Without Book.

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry. But Were We Burd'ned With Like Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain: So Thou, That Hast No Unkind Mate To Grieve Thee, With Urging Helpless Patience Wouldst Relieve Me; But If Thou Live To See Like Right Bereft, This Fool-begged Patience In Thee Will Be Left.