Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

I will be free, even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.

It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?

But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.

Take but degree away, untune that string, and hark, what discord follows!