I'll Note You In My Book Of

The Caterpillars Of The Commonwealth, Which I Have Sworn To Weed And Pluck Away.

You Cram These Words Into Mine Ears Against The Stomach Of My Sense.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

Memory, The Warder Of The Brain.

I May Chance Have Some Odd Quirks And Remnants Of Wit Broken On Me, Because I Have Railed So Long Against Marriage: But Doth Not The Appetite Alter? A Man Loves The Meat In His Youth That He Cannot Endure In His Age. Shall Quips And Sentences And These Paper Bullets Of The Brain Awe A Man From The Career Of His Humour? No, The World Must Be Peopled. When I Said I Would Die A Bachelor, I Did Not Think I Should Live Till I Were Married.