What Must Be Shall Be.

By My Troth, I Care Not; A Man Can Die But Once; We Owe God A Death And Let It Go Which Way It Will He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next

Thrust Your Head Into The Public Street, To Gaze On Christian Fools With Varnish'd Faces.

For Now They Kill Me With A Living Death.

I See A Man's Life Is A Tedious One.

Ay, But Hearken, Sir; Though The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The Air, I Am One That Am Nourished By My Victuals, And Would Fain Have Meat.