O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can

Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The Lesser Is Scarce Felt.

What Time Hath Scanted Men In Hair, He Hath Given Them In Wit.

And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy With Odd Old Ends Stol'n Out Of Holy Writ; And Seem A Saint, When Most I Play The Devil.

Pause Awhile, And Let My Counsel Sway You.

Cannot You Tell That? Every Fool Can Tell That. It Was The Very Day That Young Hamlet Was Born, He That Is Mad And Sent Into England." "ay, Marry, Why Was He Sent Into England?" "why, Because He Was Mad. He Shall Recover His Wits There, Or, If He Do Not, It's No Great Matter There." "why?" "'twill Not Be Seen In Him There. There The Men Are As Mad As He.