I Care Not, A Man Can Die

Therefore Another Prologue Must Tell He Is Not A Lion

But Thou, Contracted To Thine Own Bright Eyes, Feed'st Thy Light's Flame With Self-substantial Fuel, Making A Famine Where Abundance Lies, Thyself Thy Foe, To Thy Sweet Self Too Cruel.

In Nature There's No Blemish But The Mind. None Can Be Called Deformed But The Unkind.

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.

The Pleasant'st Angling Is To See The Fish Cut With Her Golden Oars The Silver Stream And Greedily Devour The Treacherous Bait.