I Have Drunk And Seen The Spider.

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.

Since Mine Own Doors Refuse To Entertain Me, I'll Knock Elsewhere, To See If They'll Disdain Me

For Though The Camomile, The More It Is Trodden On The Faster It Grows, Yet Youth, The More It Is Wasted, The Sooner It Wears.

The Urging Of That Word, Judgment, Hath Bred A Kind Of Remorse In Me.

Lay Aside Life-harming Heaviness, And Entertain A Cheerful Disposition.