O, Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors! All

What Hands Are Here? Ha! They Pluck Out Mine Eyes! Will All Great Neptune’s Ocean Wash This Blood Clean From My Hand? No; This My Hand Will Rather The Multitudinous Seas Incarnadine, Making The Green One Red.” “my Hands Are Of Your Colour; But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White. A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed: How Easy It Is Then! Your Constancy Hath Left You Unattended.

To Wilful Men, The Injuries That They Themselves Procure Must Be Their Schoolmasters.

He That Is Strucken Blind Can Not Forget The Precious Treasure Of His Eyesight Lost.

Tell Me Where Is Fancy Bred, Or In The Heart, Or In The Head? How Begot, How Nourished? Reply, Reply. It Is Engend'red In The Eyes, With Gazing Fed, And Fancy Dies In The Cradle Where It Lies.

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance. Pray You, Love, Remember.