The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing.

It Is The Very Error Of The Moon; She Comes More Nearer Earth Than She Was Wont, And Makes Men Mad.

How Many Things By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!

Lay On, Mcduff, And Be Damned He Who First Cries, 'hold, Enough!

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

A Kind Of Excellent Dumb Discourse.