Why, Then The World ’s Mine Oyster,

I Would There Were No Age Between Sixteen And Three-and-twenty, Or That Youth Would Sleep Out The Rest; For There Is Nothing In The Between But Getting Wenches With Child, Wronging The Ancientry, Stealing, Fighting

Good Name In Man And Woman, Dear My Lord, Is The Immediate Jewel Of Their Souls: Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash; ’tis Something, Nothing; ’twas Mine, ’tis His, And Has Been Slave To Thousands; But He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Not Enriches Him, And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

Receive What Cheer You May. The Night Is Long That Never Finds The Day.

Care I For The Limb, The Thews, The Stature, Bulk, And Big Assemblance Of A Man! Give Me The Spirit.

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!