By Heaven, I'll Make A Ghost Of

Well, God's Above All; And There Be Souls Must Be Saved, And There Be Souls Must Not Be Saved.

The World Is Grown So Bad, That Wrens Make Prey Where Eagles Dare Not Perch.

Ay, In The Catalogue Ye Go For Men; As Hounds, And Greyhounds, Mongrels, Spaniels, Curs, Shoughs, Water-rugs, And Demi-wolves, Are 'clept All By The Name Of Dogs: The Valued File Distinguishes The Swift, The Slow, The Subtle, The Housekeeper, The Hunter, Every One According To The Gift Which Bounteous Nature Hath In Him Closed.

What's Gone, And What's Past Help, Should Be Past Grief.

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.