Exceeds Man's Might: That Dwells With The

By My Troth, I Care Not; A Man Can Die But Once; We Owe God A Death And Let It Go Which Way It Will He That Dies This Year Is Quit For The Next

Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words.

The Gloomy Shade Of Death.

What Win I, If I Gain The Thing I Seek? A Dream, A Breath, A Froth Of Fleeting Joy. Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sells Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Sweet Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy? Or What Fond Beggar, But To Touch The Crown, Would With The Sceptre Straight Be Strucken Down?

What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.