Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven.

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

The Golden Age Is Before Us, Not Behind Us.

Ha. "against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come Into Dinner." There's A Double Meaning In That. -benedick (much Ado)

What Hands Are Here? Ha! They Pluck Out Mine Eyes! 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.” “my Hands Are Of Your Colour; But I Shame To Wear A Heart So White. A Little Water Clears Us Of This Deed: How Easy It Is Then! Your Constancy Hath Left You Unattended.