I Have Not Slept One Wink.

Misery Acquaints A Man With Strange Bedfellows.

I See Men's Judgments Are A Parcel Of Their Fortunes; And Things Outward Do Draw The Inward Quality After Them, To Suffer All Alike.

We Have Some Salt Of Our Youth In Us.

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

Hung Be The Heavens With Black! Yield, Day, To Night!