I'll Be Damned For Never A King's

Take Heed, Dear Heart, Of This Large Privilege; The Hardest Knife Ill-used Doth Lose His Edge.

Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

Open Thy Gate Of Mercy, Gracious God, My Soul Flies Through These Wounds To Seek Out Thee.

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

This Feather Stirs; She Lives! If It Be So, It Is A Chance Which Does Redeem All Sorrows That Ever I Have Felt.