As Good Luck Would Have It.

Give Me A Staff Of Honor For Mine Age, But Not A Sceptre To Control The World.

Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

Come Not Within The Measure Of My Wrath.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World, With Vilest Worms To Dwell.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.