Love Is A Smoke Made With The

Through Tattered Clothes, Small Vices Do Appear. Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All.

Bosom Upon My Counsel; You'll Find It Wholesome.

Our Revels Now Are Ended. These Our Actors, As I Foretold You, Were All Spirits And Are Melted Into Air, Into Thin Air: And, Like The Baseless Fabric Of This Vision, The Cloud-capp'd Towers, The Gorgeous Palaces, The Solemn Temples, The Great Globe Itself, Yea, All Which It Inherit, Shall Dissolve And, Like This Insubstantial Pageant Faded, Leave Not A Rack Behind. We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On, And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.

Cry Havoc And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!

Very Good Orators, When They Are Out, They Will Spit; And For Lovers, Lacking--god Warn Us!--matter, The Cleanliest Shift Is To Kiss.