I Pray You, Do Not

Here, Thou Incestuous, Murderous, Damned Dane, Drink Off This Potion!

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triump Die, Like Fire And Powder Which, As They Kiss, Consume

Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious Thing.

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

Then Hate Me When Thou Wilt, If Ever, Now.