Now I Will Believe That There Are

This Is The Very Coinage Of Your Brain: This Bodiless Creation Ecstasy.

What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak 'em Fair?

Who Knows Himself A Braggart, Let Him Fear This; For It Will Come To Pass That Every Braggart Will Be Found An Ass.

Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

As Flies To Wanton Boys, Are We To The Gods; They Kill Us For Their Sport.