We Are Such Stuff That Dreams Are

Make The Upcoming Hour Overflow With Joy, And Let Pleasure Drown The Brim.

He Hath Borne Himself Beyond The Promise Of His Age, Doing, In The Figure Of A Lamb, The Feats Of A Lion.

Now The Good Gods Forbid That Our Renowned Rome, Whose Gratitude Towards Her Deserved Children Is Enrolled In Jove's Own Book, Like An Unnatural Dam Should Now Eat Up Her Own!

I Had As Lief Have Been Myself Alone.

The Bitter Clamor Of Two Eager Tongues.