So May He Rest, His Faults Lie

The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does Make Our Faith Mere Folly.

I Am Indeed Not Her Fool, But Her Corrupter Of Words. (act Iii, Sc. I, 37-38)

The Present Eye Praises The Present Object.

My Grief Lies All Within, And These External Manners Of Lament Are Merely Shadows To The Unseen Grief That Swells With Silence In The Tortured Soul.

If We Are True To Ourselves, We Can Not Be False To Anyone.