The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

Jesters Do Oft Prove Prophets.

Being Holiday, The Beggar's Shop Is Shut.

What Should A Man Do But Be Merry? For Look You How Cheerfully My Mother Looks, And My Father Died Within's Two Hours.

What Valor Were It, When A Cur Doth Grin, For One To Thrust His Hand Between His Teeth, When He Might Spurn Him With His Foot Away?