We Cannot All Be Masters, Nor All

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

We See Which Way The Stream Of Time Doth Run.

Flesh And Blood, You, Brother Mine, That Entertain'd Ambition, Expell'd Remorse And Nature, Who, With Sebastian- Whose Inward Pinches Therefore Are Most Strong- Would Here Have Kill'd Your King, I Do Forgive Thee, Unnatural Though Thou Art.

Diseased Nature Oftentimes Breaks Forth In Strange Eruptions.

It Is A Heretic That Makes The Fire, Not She Which Burns In It.