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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