The Time Is Out Of Joint.

There Is A History In All Men's Lives.

The Crown O' The Earth Doth Melt. My Lord! O, Wither'd Is The Garland Of The War, The Soldier's Pole Is Fall'n: Young Boys And Girls Are Level Now With Men; The Odds Is Gone, And There Is Nothing Left Remarkable Beneath The Visiting Moon.

Now My Charms Are All O'erthrown.

I’ll Look To Like, If Looking Liking Move; But No More Deep Will I Endart Mine Eye Than Your Consent Gives Strength To Make It Fly.

Thou Shalt Not Stir One Foot To Seek A Foe.