O, Had I But Followed The Arts!

Why, Friends, You Go To Do You Know Not What: Wherein Hath Caesar Thus Deserved Your Loves? Alas, You Know Not: I Must Tell You Then: You Have Forgot The Will I Told You Of. . . . . Here Is The Will, And Under Caesar's Seal. To Every Roman Citizen He Gives, To Every Several Man, Seventy-five Drachmas. . . . . Moreover, He Hath Left You All His Walks, His Private Arbours And New-planted Orchards, On This Side Tiber; He Hath Left Them You, And To Your Heirs For Ever, Common Pleasures, To Walk Abroad, And Recreate Yourselves. Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

What Cannot Be Saved When Fate Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes

Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I In The Cow-slip's Bell I Lie There I Couch When Owls Do Cry

We Are Time's Subjects, And Time Bids Be Gone.

If The Masses Can Love Without Knowing Why, They Also Hate Without Much Foundation.