O Time, Thou Must Untangle This, Not

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

For Conspiracy, I Know Not How It Tastes, Though It Be Dished For Me To Try How.

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.

Laughing Faces Do Not Mean That There Is Absence Of Sorrow! But It Means That They Have The Ability To Deal With It

I Am Not Merry, But I Do Beguile The Thing I Am By Seeming Otherwise.