My Charity Is Outrage, Life My Shame;

I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know Not--lost All My Mirth, Forgone All Custom Of Exercise.

Good Fortune Then! To Make Me Blest Or Cursed'st Among Men.

Come Now, What Masques, What Dances Shall We Have To Wear Away This Long Age Of Three Hours Between Our After-supper And Bedtime?

Well, Heaven Forgive Him! And Forgive Us All! Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall: Some Run From Brakes Of Ice, And Answer None: And Some Condemned For A Fault Alone.

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.