Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
I would fain die a dry death.
Let's all cry peace, freedom, and liberty!
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.