Sycorax Has Grown Into A Hoop

There's A Time For All Things.

What Drink'st Thou Oft, Instead Of Homage Sweet, But Poisoned Flattery?

All Thy Vexations Were But My Trials Of Thy Love, And Thou Hast Strangely Stood The Test; Here, Afore Heaven, I Ratify This My Rich Gift.

Sweet Beatrice, Wouldst Thou Come When I Called Thee? Beatrice Yea, Signior, And Depart When You Bid Me. Benedick O, Stay But Till Then! Beatrice 'then' Is Spoken; Fare You Well Now... (much Ado About Nothing)

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array