Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife,

When The Mind's Free, The Body's Delicate.

So Full Of Shapes Is Fancy That It Alone Is High Fantastical.

Mercy But Murders, Pardoning Those That Kill.

To Kill, I Grant, Is Sin's Extremest Gust; But, In Defence, By Mercy, 'tis Most Just.

O! Let Me Not Be Mad, Not Mad, Sweet Heaven; Keep Me In Temper; I Would Not Be Mad!