I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!

Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.

Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.

There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.

I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.

...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.