O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As

The Hideous God Of War.

Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She; The Heaven Such Grace Did Lend Her, That She Might Admired Be.

We Must Not Make A Scarecrow Of The Law, Setting It Up To Fear The Birds Of Prey, And Let It Keep One Shape Till Custom Make It Their Perch, And Not Their Terror.

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation! O, I Ha' Lost My Reputation, I Ha' Lost The Immortal Part Of Myself, And What Remains Is Bestial!