Tired With All These, For Restful Death

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means.

Mine Eyes Are Full Of Tears, My Heart Of Grief.

Boundless Intemperance In Nature Is A Tyranny. It Hath Been Th' Untimely Emptying Of The Happy Throne And Fall Of Many Kings.

A Miracle. Here's Our Own Hands Against Our Hearts. Come, I Will Have Thee, But By This Light I Take Thee For Pity. Beatrice: I Would Not Deny You, But By This Good Day, I Yield Upon Great Persuasion, And Partly To Save Your Life, For I Was Told You Were In A Consumption. Benedick: Peace. I Will Stop Your Mouth.

Poor Wretches That Depend On Greatness' Favor, Dream As I Have Done; Wake, And Find Nothing.