Tis The Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead

So Shaken As We Are, So Wan With Care, Find We A Time For Frighted Peace To Pant And Breathe Short-winded Accents Of New Broils To Be Commenced In Stronds Afar Remote.

Allow Not Nature More Than Nature Needs.

If You Love An Addle Egg As Well As You Love An Idle Head, You Would Eat Chickens I' Th' Shell.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

You Speak Like A Green Girl / Unsifted In Such Perilous Circumstances.