Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.

See, the curse of children! In life they keep us frequently in tears, And in the cold grave leave us in pale fears.

Though lust do masque in ne'er so strange disguise she's oft found witty, but is never wise.

How tedious is a guilty conscience!

I am Duchess of Malfi still.

Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.

Imyself haveheard averygood jest, and havescornedto seem to have so sillya wit as to understand it.