So Get The Start Of The Majestic

I Durst Not Laugh For Fear Of Opening My Lips And Receiving The Bad Air.

Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain

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.

I See A Man's Life Is A Tedious One.

Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art Beautiful