Men Shut Their Doors Against A Setting

Art Thou Afeard To Be The Same In Thine Own Act And Valour As Thou Art In Desire? Wouldst Thou Have That Which Thou Esteem'st The Ornament Of Life, And Live A Coward In Thine Own Esteem, Letting 'i Dare Not' Wait Upon 'i Would,' Like The Poor Cat I' The Adage?

I Stalk About Her Door, Like A Strange Soul Upon The Stygian Banks Staying For Waftage.

How Is It That The Clouds Still Hang On You?

Why, Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe. There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bound, In Earth, In Sea, In Sky.

You Draw Me, You Hard-hearted Adamant; But Yet You Draw Not Iron, For My Heart Is True As Steel: Leave You Your Power To Draw, And I Shall Have No Power To Follow You.