Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
So fair and foul a day i had not seen.