Thou Ominous And Fearful Owl Of Death.

O Teach Me How I Should Forget To Think (1.1.224)

Rosencrantz My Lord, You Must Tell Us Where The Body Is, And Go With Us To The King. Hamlet The Body Is With The King, But The King Is Not With The Body. The King Is A Thing - Guildenstern A Thing My Lord? Hamlet Of Nothing. Bring Me To Him. Hide Fox, And All After!

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means.