Get Thee Glass Eyes, And Like A

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.

The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost.

The Will Is Infinite And The Execution Confin'd, The Desire Is Boundless And The Act A Slave To Limit.

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.

And By That Destiny To Perform An Act Whereof What's Past Is Prologue, What To Come In Yours And My Discharge.