Let Us Kill All Lawyers

Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure, More Lack Of Reason.

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

I Think Thy Horse Will Sooner Con An Oration Than Thou Learn A Prayer Without Book.