A Man Can Die But Once.

All Gold And Silver Rather Turn To Dirt, An 'tis No Better Reckoned But Of These Who Worship Dirty Gods.

But Thou, Contracted To Thine Own Bright Eyes, Feed'st Thy Light's Flame With Self-substantial Fuel, Making A Famine Where Abundance Lies, Thyself Thy Foe, To Thy Sweet Self Too Cruel.

And Be These Juggling Friends No More Believ'd, That Palter With Us In A Double Sense; That Keep The Word Of Promise To Our Ear And Break It To Our Hope.

Let Me Have Men About Me That Are Fat... Yond Cassius Has A Lean And Hungry Look. He Thinks Too Much: Such Men Are Dangerous.

On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily.