O' Thinkest Thou We Shall Ever Meet

Alas, That Love, So Gentle In His View, Should Be So Tyrannous And Rough In Proof! *it’s Sad. Love Looks Like A Nice Thing, But It’s Actually Very Rough When You Experience It.*

The Thing Of Courage As Rous'd With Rage Doth Sympathise, And, With An Accent Tun'd In Self-same Key, Retorts To Chiding Fortune.

This Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.

Some Are Born Great, Others Achieve Greatness.

Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea, But Bad Mortality O'ersways Their Power, How With This Rage Shall Beauty Hold A Plea, Whose Action Is No Stronger Than A Flower?