The Moon Shines Bright. In Such A

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.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.

What Seest Thou Else In The Dark Backward And Abysm Of Time?

But 'tis Common Proof, That Lowliness Is Young Ambition's Ladder, Whereto The Climber-upward Turns His Face; But When He Once Attains The Upmost Round, He Then Turns His Back, Looks In The Clouds, Scorning The Vase Defrees By Which He Did Ascend.

I Cannot Draw A Cart, Nor Eat Dried Oats; If It Be Man's Work, I'll Do't.