A Breath Thou Art, Servile To All

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

He Uses His Folly Like A Stalking-horse, And Under The Presentation Of That He Shoots His Wit.

Alas, That Love, Whose View Is Muffled Still, Should Without Eyes See Pathways To His Will!

Words Pay No Debts, Give Her Deeds.