For This Relief, Much Thanks

The Fear's As Bad As Falling.

How Much Salt Water Thrown Away In Waste/ To Season Love, That Of It Doth Not Taste.

The Insolence Of Office.

And When I Am Forgotten, As I Shall Be, And Asleep In Dull Cold Marble, Where No Mention Of Me Must Be Heard Of, Say, I Taught Thee.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.