The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

Love reasons without reason.

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.

Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

You have but mistook me all the while... I live by bread like you, taste grief, feel want, need friends. Conditioned thus how can you call me king?