human
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain; And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
gpt
I must be in a wretched state indeed, when your company would not be a delight to me. To another friend he remarked solemnly, but in his old grand manner,
human
Sir, you cannot conceive with what acceleration I advance towards death. Nor did his old vehemence and humour by any means forsake him, for he described a man who sat up to watch him