When Sorrows Come, They Come

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

How Many Ages Hence Shall This Our Lofty Scene Be Acted Over In States Unborn And Accents Yet Unknown!

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?

I That Please Some, Try All, Both Joy And Terror Of Good And Bad, That Makes And Unfolds Error.

I Have Full Cause Of Weeping, But This Heart Shall Break Into A Hundred Thousand Flaws Or Ere I'll Weep.