Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every

Some Are Born Great, Some Achieve Greatness, And Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them.

Rashly, And Praised Be Rashness For It--let Us Know, Our Indiscretion Sometime Serves Us Well When Our Deep Plots Do Pall, And That Should Learn Us There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will

And The More Pity That Great Folk Should Have Count'nance In This World To Drown Or Hang Themselves More Than Their Even-christen.

There Is Some Soul Of Goodness In Things Evil, Would Men Observingly Distill It Out.

For A Quart Of Ale Is A Dish For A King.