are those
Whose
blood and
judgment
are so
well
commingled
That they
are not a
pipe for
Fortune's
finger To
sound what
stop she
please.
Give me
that man
That is
not
passion's
slave, and
I will
wear him
In my
heart's
core, ay,
in my
heart of
heart, As
I do thee.
Something
too much
of this I
There is a
play
to-night
before the
King. One
scene of
it comes
near the
circumstance,
Which I
have told
thee, of
my
father's
death. I
prithee,
when thou





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