Tis A Happy Thing To Be The

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

Cease To Lament For That Thou Canst Not Help; And Study Help For That Which Thou Lamentest.

Something Is Rotten In The State Of Denmark.

Tis Now The Very Witching Time Of Night, When Churchyards Yawn And Hell Itself Breathes Out Contagion To This World.

The Crow Doth Sing As Sweetly As The Lark When Neither Is Attended; And I Think The Nightingale, If She Should Sing By Day When Every Goose Is Cackling, Would Be Thought No Better A Musician Than The Wren. How Many Thing By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!