O For A Horse With Wings!

Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers.

Pardon, Gentles All, The Flat Unraised Spirits That Have Dared On This Unworthy Scaffold To Bring Forth So Great An Object.

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On, Give Me Excess Of It; That Surfeiting, The Appetite May Sicken, And So Die.

Light, Seeking Light, Doth Light Of Light Beguile

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.