Cursed Be The Hand That

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

My Charity Is Outrage, Life My Shame; And In That Shame Still Live My Sorrow's Rage!

I, Measuring His Affections By My Own, Which Then Most Sought Where Most Might Not Be Found, Being One Too Many By My Weary Self, Pursued My Humor Not Pursuing His, And Gladly Shunned Who Gladly Fled From Me.

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

Let Me Be Boiled To Death With Melancholy.