You Learn Nothing About Someone By The

If You Be Sick, Your Own Thoughts Make You Sick

Doing, A Filthy Pleasure Is, And Short; And Done, We Straight Repent Us Of The Sport: Let Us Not Rush Blindly On Unto It, Like Lustful Beasts, That Only Know To Do It: For Lust Will Languish, And That Heat Decay, But Thus, Thus, Keeping Endless Holy-.

That I Might Live Alone Once With My Gold! O, 'tis A Sweet Companion! Kind And True: A Man May Trust It When His Father Cheats Him, Brother, Or Friend, Or Wife. O Wondrous Pelf! That Which Makes All Men False, Is True Itself.

Whom The Disease Of Talking Still Once Posses-seth, He Can Never Hold His Peace.

The Voice So Sweet, The Words So Fair, As Some Soft Chime Had Stroked The Air; And Though The Sound Had Parted Thence, Still Left An Echo In The Sense.