And Where The Offense Is, Let The

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

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.

My Noble Father, I Do Perceive Here A Divided Duty. To You I Am Bound For Life And Education. My Life And Education Both Do Learn Me How To Respect You. You Are The Lord Of My Duty, I Am Hitherto Your Daughter. But Here’s My Husband, And So Much Duty As My Mother Showed To You, Preferring You Before Her Father, So Much I Challenge That I May Profess Due To The Moor My Lord.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.

My Age Is As A Lusty Winter, Frosty But Kindly.