So Fair And Foul A

Ay, Much Is The Force Of Heaven-bred Poesy.

Why Should You Think That I Should Woo In Scorn? Scorn And Derision Never Come In Tears: Look, When I Vow, I Weep; And Vows So Born, In Their Nativity All Truth Appears. How Can These Things In Me Seem Scorn To You, Bearing The Badge Of Faith, To Prove Them True?

Time Is The Old Justice That Examines All Such Offenders, And Let Time Try.

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.

Fire That's Closest Kept Burns Most Of All.