Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor

Were All The Letters Sun, I Could Not See One.

Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies; Of His Bones Are Coral Made; Those Are Pearls That Were His Eyes; Nothing Of Him That Doth Fade, But Doth Suffer A Sea-change Into Something Rich And Strange. Sea-nymphs Hourly Ring His Knell: Ding-dong. Hark! Now I Hear Them — Ding-dong, Bell.

A Peevish Self-willed Harlotry It Is. *she’s A Stubborn Little Brat.*

It Is A Basilisk Unto Mine Eye, Kills Me To Look On't.

'twas Merry When You Wagered On Your Angling, When Your Diver Did Hang A Salt Fish On His Hook, Which He With Fervency Drew Up.