I Can Easier Teach Twenty What Were

This Is The Excellent Foppery Of The World, That, When We Are Sick In Fortune,--often The Surfeit Of Our Own Behavior,--we Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars: As If We Were Villains By Necessity; Fools By Heavenly Compulsion; Knaves, Thieves, And Treachers, By Spherical Predominance; Drunkards, Liars, And Adulterers, By An Enforced Obedience Of Planetary Influence; And All That We Are Evil In, By A Divine Thrusting On: An Admirable Evasion Of Whoremaster Man, To Lay His Goatish Disposition To The Charge Of A Star.

Although The Last, Not Least.

Unbidden Guests Are Often Welcomest When They Are Gone.

By Being Seldom Seen, I Could Not Stir But Like A Comet I Was Wondered At.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head?