My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.

And how his audit stands who knows, save Heaven?

Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.

But no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute.

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.

O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil!

Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud.