Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else.

Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

If We Shadows Have Offended, Think But This, And All Is Mended, That You Have But Slumbered Here While These Visions Did Appear. And This Weak And Idle Theme, No More Yielding But A Dream, Gentles, Do Not Reprehend: If You Pardon, We Will Mend: And, As I Am An Honest Puck, If We Have Unearned Luck Now To 'scape The Serpent's Tongue, We Will Make Amends Ere Long; Else The Puck A Liar Call; So, Good Night Unto You All. Give Me Your Hands, If We Be Friends, And Robin Shall Restore Amends.

What Have We Here? A Man Or A Fish? Dead Or Alive? A Fish: He Smells Like A Fish; A Very Ancient And Fishlike Smell; A Kind Of Not Of The Newest Poor-john. A Strange Fish!

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

So Musical A Discord, Such Sweet Thunder.