When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!

Be just, and fear not.

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth

This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.

Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.

Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you!

And simple truth miscalled simplicity