I Am A Kind Of Burr; I

The Breaking Of So Great A Thing Should Make A Greater Crack: The Round World Should Have Shook Lions Into Civil Streets, And Citizens To Their Dens.

I Was Not Born Under A Rhyming Planet, Nor I Cannot Woo To In Festival Terms.

Come Unto These Yellow Sands, And Then Take Hands. Curtsied When You Have And Kissed The Wild Waves Whist, Foot Is Featly Here And There; And, Sweet Sprites, The Burden Bear. Ariel's Song, Scene Ii, Act I

O, Reason Not The Need!

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.