What E'er Thou Art, Act Well Thy

O Teach Me How I Should Forget To Think (1.1.224)

The Stroke Of Death Is As A Lover's Pinch, Which Hurts And Is Desired.

Then Know, That I Have Little Wealth To Lose. A Man I Am, Crossed With Adversity; My Riches Are These Poor Habiliments, Of Which If You Should Here Disfurnish Me, You Take The Sum And Substance That I Have.

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

The Prince Of Darkness Is A Gentleman!