O, Full Of Scorpions Is My Mind!

She Cannot Love, Nor Take No Shape Nor Project Or Affection, She Is So Self-endeared

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.

Virtue Preserv'd From Fell Destruction's Blast, Led On By Heaven, And Crown'd With Joy At Last.

A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But My Own.

Refrain To-night; And That Shall Lend A Kind Of Easiness To The Next Abstinence, The Next More Easy; For Use Almost Can Change The Stamp Of Nature, And Either Master The Devil Or Throw Him Out With Wondrous Potency.