Let Me Not To The Marriage Of

Remember Thee! Ay, Thou Poor Ghost, While Memory Holds A Seat In This Distracted Globe.

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.

I Am Falser Than Vows Made In Wine.

And Since You Know You Cannot See Yourself, So Well As By Reflection, I, Your Glass, Will Modestly Discover To Yourself, That Of Yourself Which You Yet Know Not Of.