An envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation.
Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.
'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.
'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.