It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes

For Love, Thou Know'st, Is Full Of Jealousy

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

When Heaven Doth Weep, Doth Not The Earth O'erflow? If The Winds Rage, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threatening The Welkin With His Big-swoln Face? And Wilt Thou Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea; Hark, How Her Sighs Do Blow! She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth: Then Must My Sea Be Moved With Her Sighs; Then Must My Earth With Her Continual Tears Become A Deluge, Overflow'd And Drown'd: For Why My Bowels Cannot Hide Her Woes, But Like A Drunkard Must I Vomit Them. Then Give Me Leave, For Losers Will Have Leave To Ease Their Stomachs With Their Bitter Tongues.

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assured.

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.