My Hands Are Of Your Color, But

Think, When We Talk Of Horses, That You See Them Printing Their Proud Hoofs I' The Receiving Earth.

Well, Heaven Forgive Him! And Forgive Us All! Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall: Some Run From Brakes Of Ice, And Answer None: And Some Condemned For A Fault Alone.

I Will Be Brief. Your Noble Son Is Mad.

Nature's Tears Are Reason's Merriment.

Examine Well Your Blood.