To Sleep Perchance To Dream

There's Neither Honesty, Manhood, Nor Good Fellowship In Thee.

Why Are Our Bodies Soft, And Weak, And Smooth But That Our Soft Conditions And Our Hearts Should Well Agree With Our External Parts?

What's In A Name? That Which We Call A Rose By Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet.

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.

Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons." -- (miranda, I:2)