I Am Indeed, Sir, A

And Too Soon Marred Are Those So Early Made.

I'll Break My Staff, Bury It Certain Fathoms In The Earth, And Deeper Than Did Ever Plummet Sound, I'll Drown My Book!

Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits That Have Dared On This Unworthy Scaffold To Bring Forth So Great An Object.

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

Knavery's Plain Face Is Never Seen Till Used.