“Then think you not it might be wise to get
Some less of man in you, and more of God?—
How fares it with your prayers?”
“But yet,” I urged,
“It scarcely seems my fault, this woe of mine.”
“Seems not your fault?” he answer’d; “weigh the sides:
One for you—three against you—which should
yield?”
“No; two for me,” I said,—“myself and Haydn;
Besides, the other three have no such love.”