Confusion Now Hath Made His Masterpiece.

My Rage Is Gone, And I Am Struck With Sorrow. Take Him Up. Help, Three O' Th' Chiefest Soldiers; I'll Be One. Beat Thou The Drum, That It Speaks Mournfully, Trail Your Steel Spikes. Though In This City He Hath Widowed And Unchilded Many A One, Which To This Hour Bewail The Injury, Yet He Shall Have A Noble Memory. Assist.

Is It Possible That Love Should Of A Sudden Take Such A Hold?

Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain Me, I'll Knock Elsewhere, To See If They'll Disdain Me

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

I Always Thought It Was Both Impious And Unnatural That Such Immanity And Bloody Strife Should Reign Among Professors Of One Faith.