Tempt Not A Desperate Man

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

Most Subject Is The Fattest Soil To Weeds.

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

Men At Some Time Are Masters Of Their Fates. The Fault, Dear Brutus, Is Not In Our Stars, But In Ourselves, That We Are Underlings.

But Men May Construe Things After Their Fashion, Clean From The Purpose Of The Things Themselves.