Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

Oh, I Am Fortune's Fool!

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness.

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

My Father Names Me Autolycus, Who Being, As I Am, Littered Under Mercury, Was Likewise A Snapper-up Of Unconsidered Trifles.