Take Heed, Dear Heart, Of This Large

I Do Not Seek To Quench Your Love's Hot Fire, But Qualify The Fire's Extreme Rage, Lest It Should Burn Above The Bounds Of Reason.

Don Pedro Come, Lady, Come; You Have Lost The Heart Of Signior Benedick. Beatrice Indeed, My Lord, He Lent It Me Awhile; And I Gave Him Use For It, A Double Heart For His Single One: Marry, Once Before He Won It Of Me With False Dice, Therefore Your Grace May Well Say I Have Lost It. Don Pedro You Have Put Him Down, Lady, You Have Put Him Down. Beatrice So I Would Not He Should Do Me, My Lord, Lest I Should Prove The Mother Of Fools.

There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question: 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: To Die, To Sleep No More; And By A Sleep, To Say We End The Heart-ache, And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To? 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished. To Die To Sleep, To Sleep, Perchance To Dream; Aye, There's The Rub.

A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I Have One Of Sprites And Goblins.