My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.

This Fell Sergeant, Death, Is Strict In His Arrest.

Foul Deeds Will Rise, Though All The Earth O'erwhelm Them, To Men's Eyes.

Every Why Hath A Wherefore.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.