Were't Not For Laughing, I

Madam, You Have Bereft Me Of All Words, Only My Blood Speaks To You In My Veins.

Being Your Slave What Should I Do But Tend, Upon The Hours, And Times Of Your Desire? I Have No Precious Time At All To Spend; Nor Services To Do Till You Require.

Absence From Those We Love Is Self From Self - A Deadly Banishment.

For Where Thou Art, There Is The World Itself, With Every Several Pleasure In The World, And Where Thou Art Not, Desolation.

O War! Thou Son Of Hell!