Ay, Is It Not A Language I

Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

Thou Frothy Tickle-brained Hedge-pig!

These Signs Have Marked Me Extraordinary, And All The Courses Of My Life Do Show I Am Not In The Roll Of Common Men.

I See Men's Judgments Are A Parcel Of Their Fortunes; And Things Outward Do Draw The Inward Quality After Them, To Suffer All Alike.

All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell Deeds.