Out, You Tallow-face! You Baggage!

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

This Day I Breathed First: Time Is Come Round, And Where I Did Begin There Shall I End; My Life Is Run His Compass.

A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.