Small Herbs Have Grace, Great Weeds Do

Why What A Fool Was I To This Drunken Monster For A God. - Caliban

As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight To See His Active Child Do Deeds Of Youth, So I, Made Lame By Fortune's Dearest Spite, Take All My Comfort Of Thy Worth And Truth.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

Why Should We Rise Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down Because T'was Night?

The Old Folk, Time's Doting Chronicles.