That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.

Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.

I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.

So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.

true apothecary thy drugs art quick