Fools That Will Laugh On Earth, Most

Hell Hath No Limits, Nor Is Circumscribed In One Self Place, For Where We Are Is Hell, And Where Hell Is There Must We Ever Be.

Where Both Deliberate, The Love Is Slight: Who Ever Lov'd, That Lov'd Not At First Sight?

Fornication: But That Was In Another Country; And Besides, The Wench Is Dead.

Time Doth Run With Calm And Silent Foot, Shortening My Days And Thread Of Vital Life.

Till Swollen With Cunning, Of A Self-conceit, His Waxen Wings Did Mount Above His Reach, And, Melting, Heavens Conspir'd His Overthrow.