Strikes Deeper, Grows With More Pernicious Root.

I Would That I Were Low Laid In My Grave. I Am Not Worth This Coil That's Made For Me.

A Fool, A Fool! I Met A Fool I' Th' Forest, A Motley Fool! A Miserable World! As I Do Live By Food, I Met A Fool Who Laid Him Down And Basked Him In The Sun And Railed On Lady Fortune In Good Terms, In Good Set Terms, And Yet A Motley Fool.

My Wits Begin To Turn.

For The Poor Wren (the Most Diminutive Of Birds) Will Fight, Her Young Ones In Her Nest, Against The Owl.

Th Abuse Of Greatness Is When It Disjoins Remorse From Power.