O, I Have Suffered With Those That

The Empty Vessel Makes The Loudest Sound.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

A True Repentance Shuns The Evil Itself, More Than The External Suffering Or The Shame.

No, No, I Am But Shadow Of Myself: You Are Deceived, My Substance Is Not Here.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.