I Can See His Pride

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?

The Stroke Of Death Is As A Lover's Pinch, Which Hurts And Is Desired.

Think'st Thou It Honourable For A Noble Man Still To Remember Wrongs?

Methinks A Father Is At The Nuptial Of His Son A Guest That Best Becomes The Table.

This Sanguine Coward, This Bed-presser, This Horseback-breaker, This Huge Hill Of Flesh!