But Thought's The Slave Of Life, And

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

And His Unkindness May Defeat My Life, But Never Taint My Love.

And Therefore, — Since I Cannot Prove A Lover, To Entertain These Fair Well-spoken Days, — I Am Determined To Prove A Villain, And Hate The Idle Pleasures Of These Days.

What Is Honour? A Word. What Is In That Word Honour? What Is That Honour? Air. A Trim Reckoning! Who Hath It? He That Died O' Wednesday. Doth He Feel It? No. Doth He Hear It? No.

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.