We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like

Such Is My Love, To Thee I So Belong, That For Thy Right Myself Will Bear All Wrong.

I That Please Some, Try All, Both Joy And Terror Of Good And Bad, That Makes And Unfolds Error.

He That Plays The King Shall Be Welcome- His Majesty Shall Have Tribute Of Me; The Adventurous Knight Shall Use His Foil And Target; The Lover Shall Not Sigh Gratis; The Humorous Man Shall End His Part In Peace; The Clown Shall Make Those Laugh Whose Lungs Are Tickle O' Th' Sere; And The Lady Shall Say Her Mind Freely, Or The Blank Verse Shall Halt Fort.

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

Tis Not A Year Or Two Shows Us A Man: They Are All But Stomachs, And We All But Food; They Eat Us Hungerly, And When They Are Full They Belch Us.