Whither? Say, Whither Shall I Fly, To Slack These Flames Wherein I Fry? To The Treasures, Shall I Go, Of The Rain, Frost, Hail, And Snow? Shall I Search The Underground, Where All Damps And Mists Are Found? Shall I Seek (For Speedy Ease) All The Floods And Frozen Seas? Or Descend Into The Deep, Where Eternal Cold Does Keep? These May Cool; But There'S A Zone Colder Yet Than Anyone: That's My Julia'S Breast, Where Dwells Such Destructive Icicles, As That The Congelation Will Me Sooner Starve Than Those Can Kill.