A Man Should Be What He Seems.

If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness, Did Lay Siege To It, Making It Momentary As A Sound, Swift As A Shadow, Short As Any Dream, Brief As The Lightning In The Collied Night That, In A Spleen, Unfolds Both Heaven And Earth, And Ere A Man Hath Power To Say 'behold!' The Jaws Of Darkness Do Devour It Up; So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

Is This Government Of Britain's Isle, And This The Royalty Of Albion's King?

Hopeless And Helpless Doth Egeon Wend, But To Procrastinate His Liveless End.

Shall Remain! Hear You This Triton Of The Minnows? Mark You His Absolute 'shall'?

It Warms The Very Sickness In My Heart, That I Shall Live And Tell Him To His Teeth, "thus Diddest Thou;"