My Crown Is In My Heart, Not

We Are The Lords Of All Eternity

You See Me Here, You Gods, A Poor Old Man, As Full Of Grief As Age; Wretched In Both.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.

Shall I Never See A Bachelor Of Three Score Again?

Iago: She That Was Ever Fair And Never Proud, Had Tongue At Will And Yet Was Never Loud, Never Lack'd Gold And Yet Went Never Gay, Fled From Her Wish And Yet Said 'now I May,' She That Being Anger'd, Her Revenge Being Nigh, Bade Her Wrong Stay And Her Displeasure Fly, She That In Wisdom Never Was So Frail To Change The Cod's Head For The Salmon's Tail; She That Could Think And Ne'er Disclose Her Mind, See Suitors Following And Not Look Behind, She Was A Wight, If Ever Such Wight Were,-- Desdemona: To Do What? Iago: To Suckle Fools And Chronicle Small Beer.