Speak What We Feel, Not What We

The Object Of Art Is To Give Life A Shape.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Make Not Your Thoughts Your Prisons.

Don Pedro Come, Lady, Come; You Have Lost The Heart Of Signior Benedick. Beatrice Indeed, My Lord, He Lent It Me Awhile; And I Gave Him Use For It, A Double Heart For His Single One: Marry, Once Before He Won It Of Me With False Dice, Therefore Your Grace May Well Say I Have Lost It. Don Pedro You Have Put Him Down, Lady, You Have Put Him Down. Beatrice So I Would Not He Should Do Me, My Lord, Lest I Should Prove The Mother Of Fools.

Sycorax Has Grown Into A Hoop