Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods

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.

Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.

A Good Heart Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun And Not The Moon, For It Shines Bright And Never Changes.

Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His Dole, Say I; Every Man To His Business.

Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I Do Adore Thee.