Thou Art A Soul In

Lay Her I' The Earth: And From Her Fair And Unpolluted Flesh May Violets Spring! I Tell Thee, Churlish Priest, A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be, When Thou Liest Howling. Hamlet. What, The Fair Ophelia! Queen Gertrude. Sweets To The Sweet: Farewell!

I Have Trod A Measure, I Have Flattered A Lady, I Have Been Politic With My Friend, Smooth With Mine Enemy.

No, Time, Thou Shalt Not Boast That I Do Change.

Iago: She That Was Ever Fair And Never Proud, Had Tongue At Will And Yet Was Never Loud, Never Lack'd Gold And Yet Went Never Gay, Fled From Her Wish And Yet Said 'now I May,' She That Being Anger'd, Her Revenge Being Nigh, Bade Her Wrong Stay And Her Displeasure Fly, She That In Wisdom Never Was So Frail To Change The Cod's Head For The Salmon's Tail; She That Could Think And Ne'er Disclose Her Mind, See Suitors Following And Not Look Behind, She Was A Wight, If Ever Such Wight Were,-- Desdemona: To Do What? Iago: To Suckle Fools And Chronicle Small Beer.

Speak To Me As To Thy Thinkings, As Thou Dost Ruminate, And Give Thy Worst Of Thoughts The Worst Of Words.