I Will Despair, And Be At Enmity

Free From Gross Passion Or Of Mirth Or Anger

O, While You Live, Tell Truth, And Shame The Devil!

All Offences Come From The Heart.

Her Blood Is Settled, And Her Joints Are Stiff; Life And These Lips Have Long Been Separated: Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost Upon The Sweetest Flower Of All The Field.

O, She's Warm! If This Be Magic, Let It Be An Art Lawful As Eating.