Thou Hast The Most Unsavoury Similes.

I Bear A Charmed Life.

Our Revels Now Are Ended. These Our Actors, As I Foretold You, Were All Spirits And Are Melted Into Air, Into Thin Air: And, Like The Baseless Fabric Of This Vision, The Cloud-capp'd Towers, The Gorgeous Palaces, The Solemn Temples, The Great Globe Itself, Yea, All Which It Inherit, Shall Dissolve And, Like This Insubstantial Pageant Faded, Leave Not A Rack Behind. We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On, And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.

Some Glory In Their Birth , Some In Their Skill , Some In Their Wealth , Some In Their Bodies' Force , Some In Their Garments, Though New-fangled Ill; Some In Their Hawks And Hounds , Some In Their Horse ; And Every Humor Hath His Adjunct Pleasure , Wherein It Finds A Joy Above The Rest .

Slander, Whose Whisper Over The World's Diameter, As Level As The Cannon To Its Blank, Transports Its Poisoned Shot.

He Shall Spurn Fate, Scorn Death, And Bear His Hopes 'bove Wisdom, Grace And Fear: And You All Know, Security Is Mortals' Chiefest Enemy.