Such antics do not amount to a man.

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.

What can be happier than for a man, conscious of virtuous acts, and content with liberty, to despise all human affairs?

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

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.