Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

What Can Be Happier Than For A Man, Conscious Of Virtuous Acts, And Content With Liberty, To Despise All Human Affairs?

This Sleep Is Sound Indeed; This Is A Sleep That From This Golden Rigol Hath Divorc'd So Many English Kings.

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men; And Being Men, Hearing The Will Of Caesar, It Will Inflame You, It Will Make You Mad.

What's More To Do, Which Would Be Planted Newly With The Time, As Calling Home Our Exiled Friends Abroad That Fled The Snares Of Watchful Tyranny, Producing Forth The Cruel Ministers Of This Dead Butcher And His Fiend-like Queen, Who, As 'tis Thought, By Self And Violent Hands Took Off Her Life; This, And What Needful Else That Calls Upon Us, By The Grace Of Grace We Will Perform In Measure, Time, And Place.

Ay, That Incestuous, That Adulterate Beast, With Witchcraft Of His Wit, With Traitorous Gifts- O Wicked Wit And Gifts, That Have The Power So To Seduce!