There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends,

Wert Thou As Far As That Vast Shore Washed With The Farthest Sea, I Would Adventure For Such Merchandise.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

Yet, For I Know Thou Art Religious And Hast A Thing Within Thee Called Conscience, With Twenty Popish Tricks And Ceremonies Which I Have Seen Thee Careful To Observe, Therefore I Urge Thy Oath; For That I Know An Idiot Holds His Bauble For A God And Keeps The Oath Which By That God He Swears, To That I'll Urge Him: Therefore Thou Shalt Vow By That Same God, What God Soe'er It Be, That Thou Adorest And Hast In Reverence, To Save My Boy, To Nourish And Bring Him Up, Or Else I Will Discover Naught To Thee.

I Would That I Were Low Laid In My Grave. I Am Not Worth This Coil That's Made For Me.