The Small Amount Of Foolery

Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

And Nothing Can We Call Our Own But Death And That Small Model Of The Barren Earth Which Serves As Paste And Cover To Our Bones. For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

There's Neither Honesty, Manhood, Nor Good Fellowship In Thee.