A Fool Thinks Himself To Be Wise,

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.

A Plague On Both Your Houses.

But Till All Graces Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace. Rich She Shall Be, That's Certain; Wise, Or I'll None; Virtuous, Or I'll Never Cheapen Her; Fair, Or I'll Never Look On Her; Mild, Or Come Not Near Me; Noble, Or Not I For An Angel; Of Good Discourse, And Excellent Musician And Her Hair Shall Be Of What Colour It Shall Please God.

O Time, Thou Must Untangle This, Not I. It Is Too Hard A Knot For Me T'untie.

I Stand For Judgment: Answer: Shall I Have It?