He That Dies Pays All Debts.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

If You Can Look Into The Seeds Of Time, And Say Which Grain Will Grow And Which Will Not, Speak Then Unto Me.

Wisdom And Goodness To The Vile Seem Vile; Filths Savour But Themselves.

To Hell, Allegiance! Vows, To The Blackest Devil! Conscience, And Grace, To The Profoundest Pit! I Dare Damnation: To This Point I Stand,-- That Both The Worlds I Give To Negligence, Let Come What Comes; Only I'll Be Reveng'd.

Then Must You Speak Of One That Loved Not Wisely But Too Well, Of One Not Easily Jealous But, Being Wrought, Perplexed In The Extreme; Of One Whose Hand, Like The Base Indian, Threw A Pearl Away Richer Than All His Tribe; Of One Whose Subdued Eyes, Albeit Unused To The Melting Mood, Drop Tears As Fast As The Arabian Trees Their Medicinable Gum. Set You Down This, And Say Besides That In Aleppo Once, Where A Malignant And A Turbaned Turk Beat A Venetian And Traduced The State, I Took By Th' Throat The Circumcised Dog And Smote Him Thus.