ocr: Netcom Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To - the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Commands: Use arrow keus to move, ?' for help, 'qto quit, <-' to go back 12:01 24x80 12k 57600 N81
