My Wits Begin To Turn.

Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children's Hands, But More When Envy Breeds Unkind Division: There Comes The Ruin, There Begins Confusion.

What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From Us, We Wish It Ours Again.

Sir Andrew Ague-cheek: I'll Stay A Month Longer. I Am A Fellow O' The Strangest Mind I' The World; I Delight In Masques And Revels Sometimes Altogether (he's An Oddity In That He Enjoys Having Fun)

Boundless Intemperance In Nature Is A Tyranny. It Hath Been Th' Untimely Emptying Of The Happy Throne And Fall Of Many Kings.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.