Oh, God! I Have An

Methinks You Are My Glass, And Not My Brother: I See By You I Am A Sweet-faced Youth.

Hang Him, Swaggering Rascal!

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Merely Players: They Have Their Exits And Their Entrances; And One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts, His Acts Being Seven Ages.

O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue Nor Heart Cannot Conceive Nor Name Thee!

We Must Not Stint Our Necessary Actions In The Fear To Cope Malicious Censurers, Which Ever, As Rav'nous Fishes, Do A Vessel Follow That Is New-trimmed, But Benefit No Further Than Vainly Longing.