God Send Everyone Their Heart's Desire!

Hamlet: Lady, Shall I Lie In Your Lap? Ophelia: No, My Lord. Hamlet: Did You Think I Meant Country Matters? Ophelia: I Think Nothing, My Lord. Hamlet: That's A Fair Thought To Lie Between Maids' Legs. Ophelia: What Is, My Lord? Hamlet: Nothing.

When I Have Plucked The Rose, I Cannot Give It Vital Growth Again, It Needs Must Wither. I'll Smell It On The Tree.

The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

Of Chastity, The Ornaments Are Chaste.

Extreme Fear Can Neither Fight Nor Fly.