Wicked Is Not Much Worse

One Short Sleep Past, We Wake Eternally, And Death Shall Be No More; Death, Thou Shalt Die.

Love Is A Growing, Or Full Constant Light; And His First Minute, After Noon, Is Night.

Doth Not A Man Die Even In His Birth? The Breaking Of Prison Is Death, And What Is Our Birth, But A Breaking Of Prison?

Young Men Mend Not Their Sight By Using Old Men's Spectacles.

I Am Two Fools, I Know, For Loving, And For Saying So.