CSCA48H3 Lecture : Lab Exercise
19 Oct 2011
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She speaks much of her father; says she hears. There"s tricks i" the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move. The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, "twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew. To my sick soul, as sin"s true nature is, Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. They say the owl was a baker"s daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. Pray you, let"s have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this:
