Sycorax Has Grown Into A Hoop

To Be Honest, As This World Goes, Is To Be One Man Picked Out Of Ten Thousand.

Stars Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires: The Eyes Wink At The Hand; Yet Let That Be Which The Eye Fears, When It Is Done, To See

That Which Is Now A Horse, Even With A Thought The Rack Dislimms, And Makes It Indistinct As Water Is In Water

Knit Your Hearts With An Unslipping Knot.

If I Lose My Honor, I Lose Myself: Better I Were Not Yours Than Yours So Branchless.