Now I Am Past All Comforts Here,

Evermore Thanks, The Exchequer Of The Poor

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

I'll Forbear; And Am Fallen Out With My More Headier Will To Take The Indisposed And Sickly Fit For The Sound Man.

What Is Thy Sentence Then But Speechless Death.