Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons." --

With These Shreds They Vented Their Complainings, Which Being Answered And A Petition Granted Them, A Strange One, To Break The Heart Of Generosity, And Make Bold Power Look Pale, They Threw Their Caps As They Would Hang Them On The Horns O' Th' Moon, Shouting Their Emulation.

Thrust Your Head Into The Public Street, To Gaze On Christian Fools With Varnish'd Faces.

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

And She's Fair I Love.

Who Can Control His Fate?