Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods

Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways.

All The Contagion Of The South Light On You, You Shames Of Rome! You Herd Of--boils And Plagues Plaster You O'er; That You May Be Abhorr'd Further Than Seen, And One Infect Another Against The Wind A Mile!

Gold--what Can It Not Do, And Undo?

I Love Thee, And It Is My Love That Speaks

I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No, I Will Speak As Liberal As The North; Let Heaven And Men And Devils, Let Them All, All, All, Cry Shame Against Me, Yet I'll Speak.