That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning

My Grief Lies Onward, And My Joy Behind.

Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain Me, I'll Knock Elsewhere, To See If They'll Disdain Me

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

The Play's The Thing, Wherein I'll Catch The Conscience Of The King.