Well-apparel'd April On The Heel Of Limping

... I Am At War 'twixt Will And Will Not.

Thus Play I In One Person Many People, And None Contented: Sometimes Am I King; Then Treasons Make Me Wish Myself A Beggar, And So I Am: Then Crushing Penury Persuades Me I Was Better When A King; Then Am I King'd Again: And By And By Think That I Am Unking'd By Bolingbroke, And Straight Am Nothing: But Whate'er I Be, Nor I Nor Any Man That But Man Is With Nothing Shall Be Pleased, Till He Be Eased With Being Nothing.

That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect, For Slander's Mark Was Ever Yet The Fair; The Ornament Of Beauty Is Suspect, A Crow That Flies In Heaven's Sweetest Air.

What If This Cursed Hand Were Thicker Than Itself With Brother's Blood Is There Not Rain Enough In The Sweet Heaves To Wash It White As Snow?

Till All Grace Be In One Woman, One Woman Shall Not Come In My Grace.