Upon His Royal Face There Is No

If I Shall Be Condemned Upon Surmises, All Proofs Sleeping Else But What Your Jealousies Awake, I Tell You 'tis Rigor And Not Law.

Sin From Thy Lips? O Trespass Sweetly Urged! Give Me My Sin Again.

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!

O Thou Invisible Spirit Of Wine, If Thou Hast No Name To Be Known By, Let Us Call Thee Devil.