My Will Enkindled By Mine Eyes And

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy, Which Is As Thin Of Substance As The Air, And More Inconstant Than The Wind, Who Woos Even Now The Frozen Bosom Of The North, And, Being Anger'd, Puffs Away From Thence, Turning His Side To The Dew-dropping South.

I Fill Up A Place, Which May Be Better... When I Have Made It Empty.

I Dare Do All That May Become A Man; Who Dares Do More, Is None

Fire That's Closest Kept Burns Most Of All.

Macduff: What Three Things Does Drink Especially Provoke? Porter: Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine.