the seedless fruit hath came in harvest indeed!
Where humility banished by the likes of thee
to summon, conjure up the bitter nothing within
to be born to trifle with our dealings again
how th’ touchings of a devil’s heart taint mine only
how i burn my books like great Faustus in Marlowe’s play
how i giveth up my soul to be set astray
by ravens and Showers of great fire