For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

So Will I Turn Her Virtue Into Pitch, And Out Of Her Own Goodness Make The Net That Shall Enmesh Them All.

My Dull Brain Was Wrought With Things Forgotten.

I Am Misanthropos, And Hate Mankind, For Thy Part, I Do Wish Thou Wert A Dog, That I Might Love Thee Something.

Make Passionate My Sense Of Hearing.