To faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will a amend.

Give me excess of it that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die.

Confine?

Thou knowest no less but all I have unclasped to thee, the book even of my secret soul.

Now, from the beginning...

I've gone over it again and again and again in my head

We used to meet each other constantly once or twice a week.