And I Will Make It

Reflection Is The Business Of Man; A Sense Of His State Is His First Duty: But Who Remembereth Himself In Joy? Is It Not In Mercy Then That Sorrow Is Allotted Unto Us?

She Marking Them Begins A Wailing Note And Sings Extemporally A Woeful Ditty How Love Makes Young Men Thrall And Old Men Dote How Love Is Wise In Folly, Foolish-witty Her Heavy Anthem Still Concludes In Woe, And Still The Choir Of Echoes Answer So.

Each Present Joy Or Sorrow Seems The Chief.

I Have Drunk And Seen The Spider.

I Do Oppose My Patience To His Fury, And Am Arm'd To Suffer, With A Quietness Of Spirit, The Very Tyranny And Rage Of His.