Come Now, What Masques, What Dances Shall

Let Fame, That All Hunt After In Their Lives, Live Regist'red Upon Our Brazen Tombs And Then Grace Us In The Disgrace Of Death; When, Spite Of Cormorant Devouring Time, Th' Endeavor Of This Present Breath May Buy That Honor Which Shall Bate His Scythe's Keen Edge And Make Us Heirs Of All Eternity.

Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

The First Thing We Do, Let's Kill All The Lawyers.

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!

I Thank God I Am Not A Woman, To Be Touched In So Many Giddy Offences As He Hath Generally Taxed Their Whole Their Whole Sex Withal.