Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania

Therefore It Is Most Expedient For The Wise, If Don Worm (his Conscience) Find No Impediment To The Contrary, To Be The Trumpet Of His Own Virtues, As I Am To Myself.

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.

All Gold And Silver Rather Turn To Dirt, An 'tis No Better Reckoned But Of These Who Worship Dirty Gods.

The Stroke Of Death Is As A Lover's Pinch, Which Hurts And Is Desired.

So Fair And Foul A Day I Had Not Seen.