What A Deformed Thief This Fashion Is.

Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

If It Be Aught Toward The General Good, Set Honor In One Eye And Death I' Th' Other, And I Will Look On Both Indifferently; For Let The Gods So Speed Me As I Love The Name Of Honor More Than I Fear Death.

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me?

Those That Much Covet Are With Gain So Fond, For What They Have Not, That Which They Possess They Scatter And Unloose It From Their Bond, And So, By Hoping More, They Have But Less; Or, Gaining More, The Profit Of Excess Is But To Surfeit, And Such Griefs Sustain, That They Prove Bankrupt In This Poor-rich Gain.

I Do Not Know What Kind Of My Obedience I Should Tender. More Than My All Is Nothing; Nor My Prayers Are Not Words Holy Hallowed, Nor My Wishes More Worth Than Empty Vanities; Yet Prayers And Wishes Are All I Can Return.