Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?

My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater

But to my mind, though I am native here, And to the manner born, it is a custom, More honored in the breach than the observance.

A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.