Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame

Of All Complexions The Culled Sovereignty Do Meet, As At A Fair, In Her Fair Cheek, Where Several Worthies Make One Dignity, Where Nothing Wants That Want Itself Doth Seek.

Fall Greeks; Fail Fame; Honour Or Go Or Stay; My Major Vow Lies Here, This I'll Obey.

The Undiscovered Country From Whose Bourn No Traveler Returns.

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.