There Is Plenty Of Time To Sleep

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

Beauty Within Itself Should Not Be Wasted.

You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

Dream On, Dream On, Of Bloody Deeds And Death.

A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By, And Then His State Empties Itself, As Dot An Inland Brook Into The Main Of Waters.