I Shall Laugh Myself To Death At

Thou Detestable Maw, Thou Womb Of Death.

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

Love Is Merely A Madness.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

What's Done Is Done. The Joy Is In The Doing.