We Are Such Stuff That

Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

I'll Be Damned For Never A King's Son In Christendom.

What Is Past Is Prologue.

If Ever Thou Shalt Love, In The Sweet Pangs Of It Remember Me; For Such As I Am All True Lovers Are, Unstaid And Skittish In All Motions Else Save In The Constant Image Of The Creature That Is Beloved.

I Will Make A Star-chamber Matter Of It.