The Past Is Prologue.

He Hath Eaten Me Out Of House And Home.

By My Troth, I Care Not; A Man Can Die But Once; We Owe God A Death And Let It Go Which Way It Will He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupts, But Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice Obscures The Show Of Evil.

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.