The Mind Of Guilt Is Full Of

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

Time Is The King Of Men.

He's A Soldier; And For One To Say A Soldier Lies, Is Stabbing.

The Tyrant Custom, Most Grave Senators, Hath Made The Flinty And Steel Couch Of War My Thrice-driven Bed Of Down.

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse.