Part I
Trouble me not with trifles small, those of little mean.Whenst thou art dismayed by petty troubles of Realm Synthetica, I be\'st trapped by the guise of mine own skin. For whence I walk and those alike, ne\'er shall freely walk.
Part II
The manners lacking, displayed, so evident. By genders both, ages even older than should be. Thespians, poets of their own and poets, thespians. Both lost in time, their reign-to-end hath already come. To watch despaired as kith and kin do fade, ephemeral. Power Naught to halt the March of Time, inexorable.