I Am Not In The

The Play's The Thing.

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

Methinks A Father Is At The Nuptial Of His Son A Guest That Best Becomes The Table.

Come The Three Corners Of The World In Arms, And We Shall Shock Them.

Good God, The Souls Of All My Tribe Defend From Jealousy!