BLAME
There cease I to be.
NEED
His visage the pampered still turneth from me.
CARE
Ye sisters, ye cannot, ye dare not go in;
But Care through the key-hole an entrance may win.
[CARE disappears.]
WANT
Sisters, gray sisters, away let us glide!
There cease I to be.
His visage the pampered still turneth from me.
Ye sisters, ye cannot, ye dare not go in;
But Care through the key-hole an entrance may win.
[CARE disappears.]
Sisters, gray sisters, away let us glide!