It Is Great Sin To Swear Unto

Fore God, You Have Here A Goodly Dwelling And A Rich.

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You Thief Of Love!

And To Be Merry Best Becomes You; For, Out Of Question, You Were Born In A Merry Hour. Beatrice No, Sure, My Lord, My Mother Cried; But Then There Was A Star Danced, And Under That Was I Born.

Murder Most Foul, As In The Best It It; But This Most Foul, Strange, And Unnatural.