I Go, I Go, Look How I

And Thence From Athens Turn Away Our Eyes To Seek New Friends And Stranger Companies.

Shorten My Days Thou Canst With Sullen Sorrow, And Pluck Nights From Me, But Not Lend A Morrow; Thou Canst Help Time To Furrow Me With Age, But Stop No Wrinkle In His Pilgrimage.

Use Every Man After His Desert, And Who Should Scape Whipping?

Why, Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe. There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bound, In Earth, In Sea, In Sky.

Here Is A Rural Fellow That Will Not Be Denied Your Highness' Presence: He Brings You Figs.