All Is Well Ended, If The Suit

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

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

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.

I Would Not Lose So Great An Honor As One Man More Methinks Would Share With Me For The Best Hope I Have.