He Is The Most Wretched Of Men

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

More Of Your Conversation Would Infect My Brain.

My Nature Is Subdued To What It Works In, Like The Dyer's Hand.

You Draw Me, You Hard-hearted Adamant; But Yet You Draw Not Iron, For My Heart Is True As Steel: Leave You Your Power To Draw, And I Shall Have No Power To Follow You.

All Surfeit Is The Father Of Much Fast.