Do All Men Kill The Things They

Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow Where One But Goes Abreast.

Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children's Hands, But More When Envy Breeds Unkind Division: There Comes The Ruin, There Begins Confusion.

An Overflow Of Good Converts To Bad.

Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

Exit, Pursued By A Bear.