Thou Hast No Figures Nor No Fantasies

Truly Thou Art Damned, Like An Ill-roasted Egg, All On One Side.

A Very Scurvy Fellow.

I Feel Within Me A Peace Above All Earthly Dignities, A Still And Quiet Conscience.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

All Gold And Silver Rather Turn To Dirt, An 'tis No Better Reckoned But Of These Who Worship Dirty Gods.