He Doth Nothing But Talk Of His

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.

My Dull Brain Was Wrought With Things Forgotten.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks

He That Is Proud Eats Up Himself: Pride Is His Own Glass, His Own Trumpet, His Own Chronicle.

And Too Soon Marred Are Those So Early Made.