So. Lie there, my art.

“Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most exce…”

“But I have that within which passes show. these but the trappings and the suits…”

“Virtue? A fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.”

“It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't.”