The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God and death.
The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.
There was a star danced, and under that was I born.