He That Hath The Steerage

I Have Almost Forgotten The Taste Of Fears: The Time Has Been, My Senses Would Have Cool’d To Hear A Night-shriek; And My Fell Of Hair Would At A Dismal Treatise Rouse And Stir As Life Were In’t: I Have Supt Full With Horrors; Direness, Familiar To My Slaughterous Thoughts, Cannot Once Start Me.

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance. Pray You, Love, Remember.

Every Why Has A Wherefore.

To Thine Own Self Be True, And It Must Follow, As The Night The Day, Thou Canst Not Then Be False To Any Man.

Were It My Cue To Fight, I Should Have Known It Without A Prompter.