Thou Speak'st Like Him's Untutored To Repeat:

The Will Is Deaf And Hears No Heedful Friends.

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

A Scar Nobly Got Is A Good Livery Of Honor.

Misery Makes Sport To Mock Itself.

When He Shall Die, Take Him And Cut Him Out In Little Stars, And He Will Make The Face Of Heaven So Fine That All The World Will Be In Love With Night And Pay No Worship To The Garish Sun.