O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells

And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Moulds, All Germens Spill At Once That Makes Ingrateful Man!

Tis A Blushing Shame-faced Spirit That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom. It Fills A Man Full Of Obstacles. It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That (by Chance) I Found. It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It.

Then Others For Breath Of Words Respect, Me For My Dumb Thoughts, Speaking In Effect.

Still Constant Is A Wondrous Excellence.

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One