Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon

A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.

Yield Not Thy Neck To Fortunes Yoke, But Let Thy Dauntless Mind Still Ride In Triumph Over All Mischance.

Out Of Her Favour, Where I Am In Love.

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.