Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of

Wisely, I Say, I Am A Bachelor.

How Easy It Is For The Proper-false In Woman's Waxen Hearts To Set Their Forms!

In Winter's Tedious Nights Sit By The Fire With Good Old Folks, And Let Them Tell Thee Tales Of Woeful Ages, Long Ago Betid

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.