A Beggar's Book Outworths A Noble's Blood.

Double, Double, Toil And Trouble; Fire Burn, And Cauldron Bubble!

I Would There Were No Age Between Sixteen And Three-and-twenty, Or That Youth Would Sleep Out The Rest; For There Is Nothing In The Between But Getting Wenches With Child, Wronging The Ancientry, Stealing, Fighting

I Speak Of Peace, While Covert Enmity Under The Smile Of Safety Wounds The World

Thy Best Of Rest Is Sleep, And That Thou Oft Provok'st; Yet Grossly Fear'st Thy Death, Which Is No More.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs: If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her; She Would Infect To The North Star. I Would Not Marry Her, Though She Were Endowed With All That Adam Bad Left Him Before He Transgressed.