Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

Die For Adultery! No: The Wren Goes To't, And The Small Gilded Fly Does Lecher In My Sight

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.

Men From Children Nothing Differ.

Men So Noble, However Faulty, Yet Should Find Respect For What They Have Been: 'tis A Cruelty To Load A Falling Man.