A Sad Tale's Best For

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

Spirits Are Not Finely Touched But To Fine Issues.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

So. Lie There, My Art.

If Is A Custom, More Honor'd In The Breach Than The Observance.