The Fortune Of Us That Are The

I See Men's Judgments Are A Parcel Of Their Fortunes; And Things Outward Do Draw The Inward Quality After Them, To Suffer All Alike.

Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

Though Those That Are Betray'd Do Feel The Treason Sharply, Yet The Traitor Stands In Worse Case Of Woe

I Am Never Merry When I Hear Sweet Music.

World, World, O World! But That Thy Strange Mutations Make Us Hate Thee/ Life Would Not Yield To Age.