Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, but whatever is, is right! To err is human, to forgive divine. The prayer is said, the service read. Well roared, Lion: well run Thisbe. My beauty is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep. O, that such deceit should steal such gentle shapes. To arms! To arms! Betake yourselves to arms. So much is sufficient for the treatment of the sun!
No comments:
Post a Comment