My name is William Tell:when little oppressions touch mearrows hidden in my cloakwhisper, "Ready, ready."

You and I can turn and lookat the silent river and wait. We knowthe current is there, hidden; and thereare comings and goings from miles awaythat hold the stillness exactly before us.What the river says, that is what I say.

"It's love," they say. You touchthe right one and a whole half of the universewakes up, a new half.

Therefore shalt thou make them turn their back, when thou shalt make ready thine arrows upon thy strings against the face of them.

Folly is the cloak of knavery.

But when her lips were ready for his pay,He winks, and turns his lips another way.