Knavery's Plain Face Is Never

Our Wills And Fates Do So Contrary Run, That Our Devices Still Are Overthrown; Our Thoughts Are Ours, Their Ends None Of Our Own.

Let The Doors Be Shut Upon Him, That He May Play The Fool No Where But In's Own House.

You Shall More Command With Years Than With Your Weapons.

O Polished Perturbation! Golden Care! That Keep'st The Ports Of Slumber Open Wide To Many A Watchful Night.

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed