There Is No Vice So

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

At This Hour Lie At My Mercy All Mine Enemies.

Out Of My Sight! Thou Dost Infect Mine Eyes.

Cry Havoc And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!

When A Gentlemen Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths.