The More Pity, That Fools May Not

To Die: - To Sleep: No More; And, By A Sleep To Say We End The Heart-ache And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To, 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished.

Why, This Hath Not A Finger's Dignity.

Do You Set Down Your Name In The Scroll Of Youth, That Are Written Down Old With All The Characters Of Age?

Some Glory In Their Birth , Some In Their Skill , Some In Their Wealth , Some In Their Bodies' Force , Some In Their Garments, Though New-fangled Ill; Some In Their Hawks And Hounds , Some In Their Horse ; And Every Humor Hath His Adjunct Pleasure , Wherein It Finds A Joy Above The Rest .

To Stand Against The Deep Dread-bolted Thunder, In The Most Terrible And Nimble Stroke Of Quick, Cross Lightning.