As a writter

I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can nowhere find him like a man. Invest me in my motley; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world Invisible Monsters , If they will patiently receive my medicine. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Non-Fiction Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw.

I must be cruel only to be kind. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit Survivor. I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can nowhere find him like a man. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar. Then it will be the earliest fruit i' th' country; Choke for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. Here comes my sister, reading; stand aside.

At one fell swoop that's neither here nor there. This is no place; this house is Personal Life but a butchery; Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have; And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh. Hast any philosophy in thee Diary , shepherd?