Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every

Thus Play I In One Person Many People, And None Contented: Sometimes Am I King; Then Treasons Make Me Wish Myself A Beggar, And So I Am: Then Crushing Penury Persuades Me I Was Better When A King; Then Am I King'd Again: And By And By Think That I Am Unking'd By Bolingbroke, And Straight Am Nothing: But Whate'er I Be, Nor I Nor Any Man That But Man Is With Nothing Shall Be Pleased, Till He Be Eased With Being Nothing.

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance. Pray You, Love, Remember.

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.

If I Can Catch Him Once Upon The Hip, I Will Feed Fat The Ancient Grudge I Bear Him.

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.