Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
Make the upcoming hour overflow with joy, and let pleasure drown the brim.
Sweets to the sweet.
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.