If You Be Sick, Your Own Thoughts

My Thoughts And I Were Of Another World.

Well, I Will Scourge Those Apes, And To These Courteous Eyes Oppose A Mirror, As Large As Is The Stage Whereon We Act; Where They Shall See The Time's Deformity Anatomised In Every Nerve, And Sinew, With Constant Courage, And Contempt Of Fear.

[the Play] Is Like To Be A Very Conceited Scurvy One, In Plain English.

Vice Is Like A Fury To The Vicious Mind, And Turns Delight Itself To Punishment.

If All You Boast Of Your Great Art Be True; Sure, Willing Poverty Lives Most In You.