I Pray Thee Cease Thy Counsel, Which

Cry Havoc And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!

O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells To Heaven

Join Not With Grief, Fair Woman, Do Not So, To Make My End Too Sudden.

If You Can Look Into The Seeds Of Time, And Say Which Grain Will Grow And Which Will Not, Speak Then Unto Me.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.