What Say You To A Piece Of

And By That Destiny To Perform An Act Whereof What's Past Is Prologue, What To Come In Yours And My Discharge.

Lord Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words. Lord Polonius: What Is The Matter, My Lord? Hamlet: Between Who? Lord Polonius: I Mean, The Matter That You Read, My Lord.

A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A Frown.

Quince Francis Flute, The Bellows-mender. Flute Here, Peter Quince. Quince Flute, You Must Take Thisby On You. Flute What Is Thisby? A Wandering Knight? Quince It Is The Lady That Pyramus Must Love. Flute Nay, Faith, Let Me Not Play A Woman; I Have A Beard Coming.

Rashly, And Praised Be Rashness For It--let Us Know, Our Indiscretion Sometime Serves Us Well When Our Deep Plots Do Pall, And That Should Learn Us There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will