Let Never Day Nor Night Unhallowed Pass,

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

What Wouldst Thou Do, Old Man? Think'st Thou That Duty Shall Have Dread To Speak When Power To Flattery Bows?

I Will Be Brief. Your Noble Son Is Mad.

Happy Thou Art Not; For What Thou Hast Not, Still Thou Strivest To Get; And What Thou Hast, Forgettest.

Be Wary Then; Best Safety Lies In Fear.