O Coward Conscience, How Dost

The Gods Are Just, And Of Our Pleasant Vices Make Instruments To Plague Us.

Faith, I Have Been A Truant In The Law And Never Yet Could Frame My Will To It, And Therefore Frame The Law Unto My Will.

What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

Say As You Think And Speak It From Your Souls.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.