Ere I Could Make Thee Open Thy

'tis Better To Be Vile Than Vile Esteemed

By The Pricking Of My Thumbs, Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

So Our Virtues Lie In The Interpretation Of The Time

You Blocks, You Stones, You Worse Than Senseless Things!