Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

All The World's A Stage ... And You Better Have A Zoning Variance Or It's Coming Down.

A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.

The Blood Weeps From My Heart When I Do Shape, In Forms Imaginary, Th' Unguided Days And Rotten Times That You Shall Look Upon When I Am Sleeping With My Ancestors.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.