But, Soft! What Light Through

Conscience Is But A Word That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

My Father Compounded With My Mother Under The Dragon's Tail, And My Nativity Was Under Ursa Major, So That It Follows, I Am Roughand Lecherous. Tut, I Should Have Been That I Am, Had The Maidenliest Star In The Firmament Twinkled On My Bastardizing.

He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fullness Of Perfection Lies In Him.

Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such As It Is.