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?” It was at this time that she said to us, “You don’t any of you realize what is going on. This is a dark hour for the Cause, and you do not seem to be awake to it.