Twas A Clever Quibble. Here, A Garment

O, Let Him Pass. He Hates Him That Would Upon The Rack Of This Tough World Stretch Him Out Longer.

For There's No Motion That Tends To Vice In Man, But I Affirm It Is The Woman's Part.

Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow.

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head.

Earth-treading Stars That Make Dark Heaven Light