Poets Are Far Rarer Birds Than Kings.

Language Most Shows A Man; Speak That I May See Thee; It Springs Out Of The Most Retired And Inmost Parts Of Us, And Is The Image Of The Parent Of It, The Mind. No Glass Renders A Man's Form Or Likeness So True As His Speech.

O, For An Engine, To Keep Back All Clocks, Or Make The Sun Forget His Motion!

[the Play] Is Like To Be A Very Conceited Scurvy One, In Plain English.

Queen And Huntress, Chaste And Fair Now The Sun Is Laid To Sleep, Seated In Thy Silver Chair, State In Wonted Manner Keep: Hesperus Entreats Thy Light Goddess, Excellently Bright.

It Is A Note Of Upstart Greatness To Observe And Watch For These Poor Trifles, Which The Noble Mind Neglects And Scorns.