The Prize Of All Too Precious You.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

What E'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time.

I Will Be Free, Even To The Uttermost, As I Please, In Words.

Don Pedro - (...)'in Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.' Benedick - The Savage Bull May, But If Ever The Sensible Benedick Bear It, Pluck Off The Bull's Horns And Set Them In My Forehead, And Let Me Be Vildly Painted; And In Such Great Letters As They Writes, 'here Is Good Horse For Hire', Let Them Signify Under My Sign, 'here You May See Benedick The Married Man.