The Rest, Is Silence.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark.

If You Shall Marry, You Give Away This Hand, And This Is Mine; You Give Away Heaven's Vows, And Those Are Mine; You Give Away Myself, Which Is Known Mine; For I By Vow Am So Embodied Yours That She Which Marries You Must Marry Me-- Either Both Or None.