What Are You Doing Sister? / Killing

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

So Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine, And I My Self Am Mortgaged To Thy Will, My Self I'll Forfeit, So That Other Mine, Thou Wilt Restore To Be My Comfort Still.

Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall.

Virtue Is Bold, And Goodness Never Fearful.

But It Is A Melancholy Of Mine Own, Compounded Of Many Simples, Extracted From Many Objects, And Indeed The Sundry Contemplation Of My Travels, Which, By Often Rumination, Wraps Me In The Most Humorous Sadness.