A Man I Am Cross'd With Adversity.

And So, From Hour To Hour, We Ripe And Ripe. And Then, From Hour To Hour, We Rot And Rot; And Thereby Hangs A Tale.

Time Travels At Different Speeds For Different People. I Can Tell You Who Time Strolls For, Who It Trots For, Who It Gallops For, And Who It Stops Cold For.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings.

His Life Was Gentle; And The Elements So Mixed In Him, That Nature Might Stand Up And Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

I Prithee Gentle Friend, Let Thy Fair Wisdom, Not Thy Passions, Sway In This Uncivil And Unjust Extent Against Thy Peace.