Time Is The Nurse And Breeder Of

Time And The Hour Run Through The Roughest Day.

Cursed Be The Hand That Made These Fatal Holes.

And A Man's Life's No More Than To Say "one."

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

Pray You Now, Forget And Forgive.