Nothing Comes Amiss, So Money Comes Withal.

You Told A Lie, An Odious Damned Lie; Upon My Soul, A Lie, A Wicked Lie.

The Fortune Of Us That Are The Moon's Men Doth Ebb And Flow Like The Sea, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By The Moon.

Macduff: What Three Things Does Drink Especially Provoke? Porter: Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.