I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.

“That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish …”

“Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.”

“Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,The which in every language I pronounce…”

“When he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the…”