I Swear Again, I Would Not Be

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.

Fair Is Foul, And Foul Is Fair, Hover Through Fog And Filthy Air.

God's Will! My Liege, Would You And I Alone, Without More Help, Could Fight This Royal Battle!

Praise Us As We Are Tasted, Allow Us As We Prove.

I Shall Laugh Myself To Death At This Puppy-headed Monster!