Where Art Thou, Muse, That Thou Forget'st

Will You Walk Out Of The Air, My Lord? Hamlet Into My Grave.

A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By, And Then His State Empties Itself, As Dot An Inland Brook Into The Main Of Waters.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

I May Neither Choose Who I Would, Nor Refuse Who I Dislike; So Is The Will Of A Living Daughter Curbed By The Will Of A Dead Father.

Beauty, Wit, High Birth, Vigour Of Bone, Desert In Service, Love, Friendship, Charity, Are Subjects All To Envious And Calumniating Time.