Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

This Sanguine Coward, This Bed-presser, This Horseback-breaker, This Huge Hill Of Flesh!

I Am As Vigilant As A Cat To Steal Cream.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

Why, Universal Plodding Poisons Up The Nimble Spirits In The Arteries, As Motion And Long-during Action Tires The Sinewy Vigor Of The Traveller.