The Insolence Of Office.

Be Not Afeard; The Isle Is Full Of Noises, Sounds, And Sweet Airs, That Give Delight And Hurt Not. Sometimes A Thousand Twangling Instruments Will Hum About Mine Ears; And Sometime Voices, That, If I Then Had Waked After Long Sleep, Will Make Me Sleep Again: And Then, In Dreaming, The Clouds Methought Would Open, And Show Riches Ready To Drop Upon Me; That, When I Waked, I Cried To Dream Again.

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

And Caesar Shall Go Forth.

Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved Dignity.

Many Dream Not To Find, Neither Deserve, And Yet Are Steeped In Favors.