But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve.
It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago. In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end; For when my outward action doth demonstrate. The native act and figure of my heart. In complement extern, 'tis not long after. But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve. For daws to peck at. I am not what I am. ♥
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