Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.

For such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, ye're so slight.

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.

So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.

I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world; And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.

But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.