Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.
Fill all thy bones with aches.
I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes.
My library Was dukedom large enough.
Like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie.
Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind.