When Most I Wink, Then

He Knows What It's Like To Strut And Fret His Hour Upon The Stage And Then Be Heard No More.

What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak 'em Fair?

Lord, Lord, How This World Is Given To Lying!

Vile Worm, Thou Wast O'erlook'd Even In Thy Birth.

I Find My Zenith Doth Depend Upon A Most Auspicious Star, Whose Influence If Now I Court Not, But Omit, My Fortunes Will Ever After Droop.