In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

Treason And Murder Ever Kept Together, As Two Yoke-devils Sworn To Either's Purpose, Working So Grossly In A Natural Cause That Admiration Did Not Whoop At Them; But Thou, 'gainst All Proportion, Didst Bring In Wonder To Wait On Treason And On Murder; And Whatsoever Cunning Fiend It Was That Wrought Upon Thee So Preposterously Hath Got The Voice In Hell For Excellence.

There Are A Sort Of Men, Whose Visages Do Cream And Mantle, Like A Standing Pond; And Do A Willful Stillness Entertain, With Purpose To Be Dressed In An Opinion Of Wisdom, Gravity Profound Conceit; As Who Should Say, I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark!

Officers, What Offence Have These Men Done? Dogberry Marry, Sir, They Have Committed False Report; Moreover, They Have Spoken Untruths; Secondarily, They Are Slanders; Sixth And Lastly, They Have Belied A Lady; Thirdly, They Have Verified Unjust Things; And, To Conclude, They Are Lying Knaves.

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

Enjoy The Honey-heavy Dew Of Slumber.