'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We

No Might Nor Greatness In Mortality Can Censure 'scape; Back- Wounding Calumny The Whitest Virtue Strikes. What King So Strong Can Tie The Gall Up In The Slanderous Tongue?

The Loyalty, Well Held To Fools, Does Make Our Faith Mere Folly.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Mearly Players.

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.