To Take Arms Against A Sea Of

This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love.

Wisdom And Fortune Combating Together, If That The Former Dare But What It Can, No Chance May Shake It.

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

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.

For 'tis The Sport To Have The Engineer Hoist With His Own Petar; And't Shall Go Hard But I Will Delve One Yard Below Their Mines And Blow Them At The Moon.