When A Wise Man Gives Thee Better

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

So Fair And Foul A Day I Had Not Seen.

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

And Where Two Raging Fires Meet Together, They Do Consume The Thing That Feeds Their Fury.

Weed Your Better Judgments Of All Opinion That Grows Rank In Them.