X.2. Nothing itself, it needs but little more
To be that nothingness the Preacher saw.
I.3. Dusty though my fellows be,
We are a kingly company.
IV.3. Have your own will, though here, I hold,
The new is not a patch upon the old.
XIV.3. Any loud cry would do as well,
Or so the poet's verses tell.
I.4. This is the most unkindest cut of all,
Except your skill be mathematical.