Small Things Make Base Men Proud.

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.

The Tongues Of Mocking Wenches Are As Keen As Is The Razor's Edge Invisible.

Can We Outrun The Heavens?

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.

This Act Is An Ancient Tale New Told; And, In The Last Repeating, Troublesome, Being Urged At A Time Unseasonable.