Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

A Woman Impudent And Mannish Grown Is Not More Loath'd Than An Effeminate Man.

You Told A Lie, An Odious Damned Lie; Upon My Soul, A Lie, A Wicked Lie.

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle.

To Persevere In Obstinate Condolement Is A Course Of Impious Stubbornness: 'tis Unmanly Grief.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.