O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
Death where is thy sting? Love, where is thy glory?
Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.