There was a star danced, and under that was I born.

“Our son shall win.QUEEN-He is fat and scant of breath. Here Hamlet, Wipe thy br…”

“But shall we wear these glories for a day?Or shall they last, and we rejoice in…”

“No longer mourn for me when I am deadthan you shall hear the surly sullen bell …”

“Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.”