Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honour, truth, and...

Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die.

Confine?

Thou knowest no less but all I have unclasped to thee, the book even of my secret soul.

In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran...

I've gone over it again and again and again in my head

Now, from the beginning...