Thou Lump Of Foul Deformity!

That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls Him With Intelligence.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

But To My Mind, Though I Am Native Here, And To The Manner Born, It Is A Custom, More Honored In The Breach Than The Observance.

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

Like A Dull Actor Now, I Have Forgot My Part, And I Am Out, Even To A Full Disgrace.