Say, What Abridgement Have You For This

When We Are Born We Cry That We Are Come To This Great Stage Of Fools.

How Strange Or Odd Some'er I Bear Myself, As I Perchance Hereafter Shall Think Meet To Put An Antic Disposition On.

O, This Life Is Nobler Than Attending For A Check, Richer Than Doing Nothing For A Robe, Prouder Than Rustling In Unpaid-for Silk: Such Pain The Cap Of Him That Makes Him Fine Yet Keeps His Book Uncrossed.

'tis The Soldier's Life To Have Their Balmy Slumbers Waked With Strife.

All The Contagion Of The South Light On You, You Shames Of Rome! You Herd Of--boils And Plagues Plaster You O'er; That You May Be Abhorr'd Further Than Seen, And One Infect Another Against The Wind A Mile!