Distraction is the panacea, Sir! 
I hear my oracle of Medicine say. 
Doctor! that same specific yesterday 
I tried, and the result will not deter 
A second trial. Is the devil's line 
Of golden hair, or raven black, composed? 
And does a cheek, like any sea-shell rosed, 
Or clear as widowed sky, seem most divine? 
No matter, so I taste forgetfulness. 
And if the devil snare me, body and mind, 
Here gratefully I score:--he seemèd kind, 
When not a soul would comfort my distress! 
O sweet new world, in which I rise new made! 
O Lady, once I gave love: now I take! 
Lady, I must be flattered. Shouldst thou wake 
The passion of a demon, be not afraid.