Thriftless Ambition, That Wilt Ravin Up Thine

The World Must Be Peopled!

Take You Me For A Sponge?

I Am Not Mad; I Would To Heaven I Were! For Then, 'tis Like I Should Forget Myself; O, If I Could, What Grief Should I Forget!

My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate! Too Early Seen Unknown, And Known Too Late! Prodigious Birth Of Love It Is To Me, That I Must Love A Loathed Enemy.

Cursed Be The Hand That Made These Fatal Holes.