Thou Shalt Be Both The Plaintiff And

Ignorance Is The Curse Of God; Knowledge Is The Wing Wherewith We Fly To Heaven.

Alas, Poor Yorick! I Knew Him, Horatio: A Fellow Of Infinite Jest, Of Most Excellent Fancy: He Hath Borne Me On His Back A Thousand Times; And Now, How Abhorred In My Imagination It Is! My Gorge Rims At It. Here Hung Those Lips That I Have Kissed I Know Not How Oft. Where Be Your Gibes Now? Your Gambols? Your Songs? Your Flashes Of Merriment, That Were Wont To Set The Table On A Roar? Not One Now, To Mock Your Own Grinning? Quite Chap-fallen?

To Say The Truth, So Judas Kissed His Master And Cried, 'all Hail!' When As He Meant All Harm.

The Eye Of Man Hath Not Heard, The Ear Of Man Hath Not Seen, Man's Hand Is Not Able To Taste, His Tongue To Conceive, Nor His Heart To Report, What My Dream Was.

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.