You Are Not Worth Another Word, Else

I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue

So Weary With Disasters, Tugg'd With Fortune, That I Would Set My Life On Any Chance, To Mend, Or Be Rid On't.

Desperate Times Breed Desperate Measures

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.