Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

Though Justice Be Thy Plea Consider This, That In The Course Of Justice None Of Us Should See Salvation.

And Yet, By Heaven, I Think My Love As Rare As Any She Belied With False Compare.

The Seasons Change Their Manners, As The Year Had Found Some Months Asleep And Leapt Them Over.

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.

Last Scene Of All That Ends This Strange, Eventful History, Is Second Childishness And Mere Oblivion. I Am Sans Teeth, Sans Eyes, Sans Taste, Sans Everything.