My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

The Error Of Our Eye Directs Our Mind. What Error Leads Must Err.

He That Has A House To Put's Head In Has A Good Head-piece.

Daffodils, That Come Before The Swallow Dares, And Take The Winds Of March With Beauty.

The Attempt And Not The Deed Confounds Us.