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O thou tomb! be his horrors set in blight? * Hast thou dark ened his countenance that sickeneth the soul? O thou tomb! neither cess pool nor pipkin art to me * Then how cometh it in thee are conjoined soil and coal? When she heard my words she sprang to her feet crying.
And if all ladders henceforth fail thee, then must thou learn to mount upon thine own head: how couldst thou mount upward otherwise? Upon thine own head, and beyond thine own heart! Now must the gentlest in thee become the hardest. He who hath always much-indulged himself, sickeneth at last by his much-indulgence. Praises on what maketh hardy! I do not praise the land where butter and honey flow!
And as he looked at her and considered her curiously, an object to enamour an ascetic and make a devotee lovesick, fire was lighted in his vitals and he cried, "Folk say that whoso taketh up his abode in this house dieth or sickeneth. An this be so, yon damsel is assuredly the cause. Would Heaven I knew how I shall win free of this affair, for my wits are clean gone!"
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