I Wonder Men Dare Trust Themselves With

Throw Physic To The Dogs; I'll None Of It.

Two Lovely Berries Moulded On One Stem; So, With Two Seeming Bodies, But One Heart.

I Swear Again, I Would Not Be A Queen For All The World.

Seems," Madam? Nay, It Is; I Know Not "seems." 'tis Not Alone My Inky Cloak, Good Mother, Nor Customary Suits Of Solemn Black, Nor Windy Suspiration Of Forced Breath, No, Nor The Fruitful River In The Eye, Nor The Dejected 'havior Of The Visage, Together With All Forms, Moods, Shapes Of Grief, That Can Denote Me Truly: These Indeed Seem, For They Are Actions That A Man Might Play: But I Have That Within Which Passeth Show; These But The Trappings And The Suits Of Woe.

What Is Aught But As 'tis Valued?