The let-alone lies not in your good will.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
Many that are not mad have, sure, more lack of reason.
This liberty is all that I request.
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.