If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears: But Yet It Is Our Trick; Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will: When These Are Gone, The Woman Will Be Out. — Adieu, My Lord! I Have A Speech Of Fire, That Fain Would Blaze, But That This Folly Drowns It.

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built Anew, Grows Fairer Than At First, More Strong, Far Greater

When Thou Cam'st First, Thou Strok'st Me And Made Much Of Me; Wouldst Give Me Water With Berries In't; And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night; And Then I Loved Thee And Showed Thee All The Qualities O' Th' Isle, The Fresh Springs, Brine-pits, Barren Place And Fertile.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears.