Give Me To Drink Mandragora.

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

O Good Old Man, How Well In Thee Appears The Constant Service Of The Antique World, When Service Sweat For Duty, Not For Meed! Thou Art Not For The Fashion Of These Times, Where None Will Sweat But For Promotion, And Having That Do Choke Their Service Up Even With The Having. . . .

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth.

Brutus, I Do Observe You Now Of Late: I Have Not From Your Eyes That Gentleness And Show Of Love As I Was Wont To Have: You Bear Too Stubborn And Too Strange A Hand Over Your Friend That Loves You. Poor Brutus, With Himself At War, Forgets The Shows Of Love To Other Men.