Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious

Would I Were In An Alehouse In London.

We Suffer A Lot The Few Things We Lack And We Enjoy Too Little The Many Things We Have.

Here Comes A Pair Of Very Strange Beasts, Which In All Tongues Are Called Fools.

There's Never A Villain Dwelling In All Denmark But He's An Arrant Knave.

Not From The Stars Do I My Judgement Pluck, And Yet Methinks I Have Astronomy. But Not To Tell Of Good Or Evil Luck, Of Plagues, Of Dearths, Or Season's Quality; Nor Can I Fortune To Brief Minutes Tell ... Or Say With Princes If It Shall Go Well.