Truth Hath A Quiet Breast.

By The Apostle Paul, Shadows Tonight Have Struck More Terror To The Soul Of Richard Than Can The Substance Of Ten Thousand Soldiers.

I'll Make Death Love Me; For I Will Contend Even With His Pestilent Scythe.

More Matter With Less Art.

Well, Whiles I Am A Beggar, I Will Rail, And Say There Is No Sin But To Be Rich; And Being Rich, My Virtue Then Shall Be To Say There Is No Vice But Beggary

O, The Blood More Stirs To Rouse A Lion Than To Start A Hare!