What is the city but the people?

This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.

Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.

But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping.

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.