O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells

Unsubstantial Death Is Amorous.

Adieu! I Have Too Grieved A Heart To Take A Tedious Leave.

O, This Life Is Nobler Than Attending For A Check, Richer Than Doing Nothing For A Robe, Prouder Than Rustling In Unpaid-for Silk: Such Pain The Cap Of Him That Makes Him Fine Yet Keeps His Book Uncrossed.

For My Own Part, I Shall Be Glad To Learn Of Noble Men.

Woe To That Land That's Governed By A Child.