Dispute Not With Her: She

A Breath Thou Art, Servile To All The Skyey Influences.

So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.​​​​​​

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question.

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

My Crown Is In My Heart, Not On My Head; Not Decked With Diamonds And Indian Stones, Nor To Be Seen: My Crown Is Called Content, A Crown It Is That Seldom Kings Enjoy.