Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune

Thus Can The Demigod Authority Make Us Pay Down For Our Offense By Weight The Words Of Heaven; On Whom It Will, It Will, On Whom It Will Not, So: Yet Still 'tis Just.

'sblood, You Starveling, You Elf-skin, You Dried Neat's Tongue, You Bull's Pizzle, You Stock-fish! O For Breath To Utter What Is Like Thee! You Tailor's-yard, You Sheath, You Bowcase; You Vile Standing-tuck!

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.

But There Is No Such Man; For, Brother, Men Can Counsel And Speak Comfort To That Grief Which They Themselves Not Feel; But, Tasting It, Their Counsel Turns To Passion, Which Before Would Give Preceptial Medicine To Rage, Fetter Strong Madness In A Silken Thread, Charm Ache With Air And Agony With Words.

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.