The Will Of Man Is By His

On Your Eyelids Crown The God Of Sleep, Charming Your Blood With Pleasing Heaviness, Making Such Difference 'twixt Wake And Sleep As Is The Difference Betwixt Day And Night The Hour Before The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

In Religion, What Damned Error But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It, And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament?

Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

Now He'll Outstare The Lightning. To Be Furious Is To Be Frightened Out Of Fear.