What is aught but as 'tis valued?
Love goes toward love.
When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.
Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
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.