Rumours voiced by women come to nothing.

You are young and young your rule and you think that the tower in which you live is free from sorrow: from it have I not seen two tyrants thrown? The third, who now is king, I shall yet live to see him fall, of all three most suddenly, most dishonored.

The moving light, rejoicing in its strength,
Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way,
In golden glory, like some strange new sun...

They sent forth men to battle, But no such men return; And home, to claim their welcome, Come ashes in an urn

You don't know what your life is, nor what you're doing, nor who you are.

Time, which sees all things, has found you out.