A little water clears us of this deed.
Twas a clever quibble. Here, a garment for it.
O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.