The Stroke Of Death Is As A

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.

As Full Of Spirit As The Month Of May, And As Gorgeous As The Sun In Midsummer.

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.