More Matter With Less Art.

I Am Ill At These Numbers.

We Are Time's Subjects, And Time Bids Be Gone.

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

There Is No Creature Loves Me; And If I Die, No Soul Will Pity Me.

Thieves For Their Robbery Have Authority When Judges Steal Themselves.