Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.

Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face for all occasions

Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct.

So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.

O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!