What A Fool Honesty Is.

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

Few Things Loves Better Than To Abhor Himself.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

It Will Have Blood, They Say; Blood Will Have Blood.

Marry, Sir, They Praise Me And Make An Ass Of Me. Now My Foes Tell Me Plainly I Am An Ass; So That By My Foes, Sir, I Profit In The Knowledge Of Myself, Any By My Friends I Am Abused; So That, Conclusions To Be As Kisses, If Your Four Negatives Make Your Two Affirmatives, Why Then, The Worse For My Friends, And The Better For My Foes.