Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I’ll catch it ere it come to ground: And that, distill’d by magic sleights, Shall raise such artificial sprites, As, by the strength of their illusion, Shall draw him on to his confusion: He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
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It is illegal and dangerous to distill beverages without a license.