Quote: What Angel Wakes Me From My

I'll Fight, Till From My Bones My Flesh Be Hacked.

A Harmless Necessary Cat.

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

But Now Behold, In The Quick Forge And Working-house Of Thought, How London Doth Pour Out Her Citizens!

Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With Virtue.