If music be the food of love, play on.

If music be the food of love, play on.

Every bullet has its billet.

Every bullet has its billet.

Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

All is grist that comes to the mill.

All is grist that comes to the mill.

But that old man, who is lord of the broad estate and the hall,
Dropped off gorged from a read more

But that old man, who is lord of the broad estate and the hall,
Dropped off gorged from a scheme which left us flaccid and
drained.

I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.

I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.

Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.

Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.

The pot boils badly.

The pot boils badly.

Kindness, so far as we can return it, is agreeable.

Kindness, so far as we can return it, is agreeable.