Grief Never Ends, But It Changes. It

O Fortune, How Thy Restless, Wavering State Has Fraught With Cares My Troubled Wit!

I Grieve And Dare Not Show My Discontent, I Love And Yet Am Forced To Seem To Hate, I Do, Yet Dare Not Say I Ever Meant, I Seem Stark Mute But Inwardly Do Prate. I Am And Not, I Freeze And Yet Am Burned, Since From Myself Another Self I Turned. My Care Is Like My Shadow In The Sun, Follows Me Flying, Flies When I Pursue It, Stands And Lies By Me, Doth What I Have Done.

I Know I Have The Body Of A Weak And Feeble Woman, But I Have The Heart And Stomach Of A King, And Of A King Of England Too.

There Will Never Queen Sit In My Seat With More Zeal To My Country, Care To My Subjects And That Will Sooner With Willingness Venture Her Life For Your Good And Safety Than Myself. For It Is My Desire To Live Nor Reign No Longer Than My Life And Reign Shall Be For Your Good. And Though You Have Had, And May Have, Many Princes More Mighty And Wise Sitting In This Seat, Yet You Never Had Nor Shall Have, Any That Will Be More Careful And Loving.

A Good Face Is The Best Letter Of Recommendation.