Thanks for your pains,
You promised no less to them.
What good could they pretend?
For I, cannot be ill; cannot be good.
They have more in them than mortal knowledge,
Yet do I fear thy nature?
Thriftless ambition that would make good of bad.
And restless ecstasy would make friends of foes
Have else desired good advice, both grave and prosperous.
Yet dark night strangles the traveling lamp of dire combustion and confused events.
But within this hour at most, your spirits shine through you.
Upon this bank and shoal of time, we'd jump the life to come.
This might be the be-all and the end-all here. Sleep no more.
For a false creation proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain
Met me in the day of success.
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