'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile

To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, Creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day, To The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time; And All Our Yesterdays Have Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More. It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

Don Pedro - (...)'in Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.' Benedick - The Savage Bull May, But If Ever The Sensible Benedick Bear It, Pluck Off The Bull's Horns And Set Them In My Forehead, And Let Me Be Vildly Painted; And In Such Great Letters As They Writes, 'here Is Good Horse For Hire', Let Them Signify Under My Sign, 'here You May See Benedick The Married Man.

An Honest Man, Sir, Is Able To Speak For Himself, When A Knave Is Not.

Now My Charms Are All O'erthrown, And What Strength I Have's Mine Own, Which Is Most Faint: Now, 'tis True, Or Sent To Naples. Let Me Not, Since I Have My Dukedom Got And Pardon 'd The Deceiver, Dwell In This Bare Island By Your Spell; I Must Be Here Confined By You, But Release Me From My Bands With The Help Of Your Good Hands: Gentle Breath Of Yours My Sails Must Fill, Or Else My Project Fails, Which Was To Please: Now I Want Spirits To Enforce, Art To Enchant, And My Ending Is Despair, Unless I Be Relieved By Prayer, Which Pierces So, That It Assaults Mercy Itself, And Frees All Faults. As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.