A Knot You Are Of

Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

Drink Down All Unkindness.

Virtuous And Fair, Royal And Gracious.

Rumor Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!