Wrong Hath But Wrong, And Blame The

It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury; Signifying Nothing.

O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To Brutish Beasts, And Men Have Lost Their Reason !

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

How Many A Holy And Obsequious Tear Hath Dear Religious Love Stolen From Mine Eye, As Interest Of The Dead!

It Is Not Night When I Do See Your Face, Therefore I Think I Am Not In The Night; Nor Doth This Wood Lack Worlds Of Company, For You In My Respect Are All The World: Then How Can It Be Said I Am Alone, When All The World Is Here To Look On Me?