I Am Falser Than Vows

I Fill Up A Place, Which May Be Better... When I Have Made It Empty.

Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul To Hear A Robust Periwig-pated Fellow, Tear A Passion To Tatters, To Very Rags, To Split The Ears Of The Groundlings.

Nay, We Must Think Men Are Not Gods, Nor Of Them Look For Such Observancy As Fits The Bridal.

Taste Your Legs, Sire: Put Them Into Motion.

We Were Not Born To Sue, But To Command.