For . . . the trifling of his favour,

Hold it in a fashion, and a toy in blood;

A violet in the youth of primy nature,

Forward, not permanent – sweet, not lasting;

The perfume and suppliance of a minute;

No more.

-         Hamlet (I, iii)

 

                 

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Last updated on December 6, 2001

All written material is the intellectual property of Faith Richards