A very honest woman but something given to lie
Hate pollutes the mind.
More of your conversation would infect my brain.
Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
'Twas merry when You wagered on your angling, when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up.