He's Mad That Trusts In The Tameness

What's Done Can't Be Undone.

Let Every Man Be Master Of His Time.

Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

Then Will I Raise Aloft The Milk-white Rose. For Whose Sweet Smell The Air Shall Be Perfumed.

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.