A Woman Would Run Through Fire And

What Hands Are Here? Ha! They Pluck Out Mine Eyes! Will All Great Neptune’s Ocean Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand? No; This My Hand Will Rather The Multitudinous Seas Incarnadine, Making The Green One Red.” “my Hands Are Of Your Colour; But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White. A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed: How Easy It Is Then! Your Constancy Hath Left You Unattended.

I Had Rather Live With Cheese And Garlic In A Windmill.

For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst Thou First Fall In Love With Me?

Set Your Heart At Rest. The Fairyland Buys Not The Child Of Me.

So Well Thy Words Become Thee As Thy Wounds.