Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified,

What Seest Thou Else In The Dark Backward And Abysm Of Time?

The Sweets We Wish For, Turn To Loathed Sours, Even In The Moment That We Call Them Ours.

To Thine Own Self Be True, And It Must Follow, As The Night The Day, Thou Canst Not Then Be False To Any Man.

Go To You Bosom: Knock There, And Ask Your Heart What It Doth Know.

Come, Woo Me, Woo Me, For Now I Am In A Holiday Humor, And Like Enough To Consent.