Why, What Should Be The Fear? I

Who Is Here So Vile That Will Not Love His Country?

Myself--a Prince By Fortune Of My Birth, Near To The King In Blood, And Near In Love Till You Did Make Him Misinterpret Me-- Have Stooped My Neck Under Your Injuries And Sighed My English Breath In Foreign Clouds, Eating The Bitter Bread Of Banishment, Whilst You Have Fed Upon My Signories, Disparked My Parks And Felled My Forest Woods, From My Own Windows Torn My Household Coat, Rased Out My Imprese, Leaving Me No Sign, Save Men's Opinions And My Living Blood, To Show The World I Am A Gentleman.

I Have Not Slept One Wink.

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be, For Loan Oft Loses Both Itself And Friend, And Borrowing Dulls The Edge Of Husbandry.

I Am Not In The Giving Vein Today.