Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

And In The Morn And Liquid Dew Of Youth, Contagious Blastments Are Are Most Imminent.

Thou Hast Nor Youth Nor Age But As It Were An After Dinner Sleep Dreaming Of Both.

It Is The Very Error Of The Moon; She Comes More Nearer Earth Than She Was Wont, And Makes Men Mad.

Though I Am Not Naturally Honest, I Am Sometimes So By Chance.