I Can Call Spirits From

No, No, I Am But Shadow Of Myself: You Are Deceived, My Substance Is Not Here.

I Have Seen Better Faces In My Time Than Stands On Any Shoulder That I See Before Me At This Instant.

Behold The Threaden Sails, Borne With The Invisible And Creeping Wind, Draw The Huge Bottoms Through The Furrow'd Sea, Breasting The Lofty Surge

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.

Manhood Is Melted Into Courtesies, Valor Into Compliment, And Men Are Only Turned Into Tongue, And Trim Ones, Too.