second
husband
kisses me
in bed.
King. I do
believe
you think
what now
you speak;
But what
we do
determine
oft we
break.
Purpose is
but the
slave to
memory, Of
violent
birth, but
poor
validity;
Which now,
like fruit
unripe,
sticks on
the tree,
But fall
unshaken
when they
mellow be.
Most
necessary
'tis that
we forget
To pay
ourselves
what to
ourselves
is debt.
What to
ourselves
in passion
we
propose,
The
passion
ending,
doth the
purpose
