Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are

A Fool, A Fool! I Met A Fool I' Th' Forest, A Motley Fool! A Miserable World! As I Do Live By Food, I Met A Fool Who Laid Him Down And Basked Him In The Sun And Railed On Lady Fortune In Good Terms, In Good Set Terms, And Yet A Motley Fool.

Too Much Of Water Hast Thou, Poor Ophelia, And Therefore I Forbid My Tears: But Yet It Is Our Trick; Nature Her Custom Holds, Let Shame Say What It Will: When These Are Gone, The Woman Will Be Out. — Adieu, My Lord! I Have A Speech Of Fire, That Fain Would Blaze, But That This Folly Drowns It.

If I Lose My Honor, I Lose Myself: Better I Were Not Yours Than Yours So Branchless.

And The More Pity That Great Folk Should Have Count'nance In This World To Drown Or Hang Themselves More Than Their Even-christen.

That, Sir, Which Serves And Seeks For Gain, And Follows But For Form, Will Pack, When It Begins To Rain, And Leave Thee In A Storm.