Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.

To Thine Own Self Be True, And It Must Follow, As The Night The Day, Thou Canst Not Then Be False To Any Man.

Beauty, Wit, High Birth, Vigour Of Bone, Desert In Service, Love, Friendship, Charity, Are Subjects All To Envious And Calumniating Time.

Tis The Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead The Blind.

Now, My Co-mates And Brothers In Exile, Hath Not Old Custom Made This Life More Sweet Than That Of Painted Pomp? Are Not These Woods More Free From Peril Than The Envious Court?

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.