HE READS MUCH; HE IS A GREAT OBSERVER, AND HE LOOKS QUITE THROUGH THE DEEDS OF MEN.

WHY, MAN, HE DOTH BESTRIDE THE NARROW WORLD

LIKE A COLLOSSUS; AND WE PETTY MEN

WALK UNDER HIS HUGE LEGS, AND PEEP ABOUT

TO FIND OURSELVES DISHONORABLE GRAVES.

MEN AT SOME TIME ARE MASTERS OF THEIR FATES:

THE FAULT, DEAR BRUTUS, IS NOT OUR STARS,

BUT IN OURSELVES, THAT WE ARE UNDERLINGS.