Though She Be But Little, She Is

Oft Expectation Fails, And Most Oft There Where Most It Promises; And Oft It Hits Where Hope Is Coldest, And Despair Most Fits.

Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King Keeps Death His Court.

Crowns Have Their Compass-length Of Days Their Date- Triumphs Their Tomb-felicity, Her Fate- Of Nought But Earth Can Earth Make Us Partaker, But Knowledge Makes A King Most Like His Maker.

Words To Deeds Cold Breath Gives.

That Which Hath Made Them Drunk Hath Made Me Bold; What Hath Quenched Them Hath Given Me Fire.