The Past Is Prologue.

And Will He Not Come Again? And Will He Not Come Again? No, No, He Is Dead. Go To Thy Deathbed. He Never Will Come Again.

Nor Stony Tower, Nor Walls Of Beaten Brass, Nor Airless Dungeon, Nor Strong Links Of Iron, Can Be Retentive To The Strength Of Spirit; But Life, Being Weary Of These Worldly Bars, Never Lacks Power To Dismiss Itself.

Thou Speak'st Like Him's Untutored To Repeat: Who Makes The Fairest Show Means Most Deceit.

Give Me A Staff Of Honor For Mine Age, But Not A Sceptre To Control The World.

Speak On, But Be Not Over-tedious.