Sick In The World's Regard, Wretched And

Each Substance Of A Grief Has Twenty Shadows.

Such Thanks As Fits A King's Remembrance.

Liberty Plucks Justice By The Nose; The Baby Beats The Nurse, And Quite Athwart Goes All Decorum.

You Know That I Do Fawn On Men, And Hug Them Hard, And After Scandal Them.

Love Is Not Love Which Alters When It Alteration Finds, Or Bends With The Remover To Remove. O, No! It Is An Ever-fixed Mark, That Looks On Tempests And Is Never Shaken. It Is The Star To Every Wandering Bark, Whose Worth's Unknown, Although His Height Be Taken.