Sin Will Pluck On Sin.

And What’s He Then That Says I Play The Villain?

If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness, Did Lay Siege To It, Making It Momentary As A Sound, Swift As A Shadow, Short As Any Dream, Brief As The Lightning In The Collied Night That, In A Spleen, Unfolds Both Heaven And Earth, And Ere A Man Hath Power To Say 'behold!' The Jaws Of Darkness Do Devour It Up; So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

On Pain Of Death, No Person Be So Bold.

For What Good Turn? Messenger: For The Best Turn Of The Bed.

If People Knew How Much I Hated Them, They'd Love Me For Holding It In.