Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

Oh What Fools We Mortals Are.

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.

If Circumstances Lead Me, I Will Find Where Truth Is Hid, Though It Were Hid Indeed Within The Centre.