Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.

Yet But Three Come One More. Two Of Both Kinds Make Up Four. Ere She Comes Curst And Sad. Cupid Is A Knavish Lad. Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

My Long Sickness Of Health And Living Now Begins To Mend, And Nothing Brings Me All Things.

Can One Desire Too Much Of A Good Thing?

He Draweth Out The Thread Of His Verbosity Finer Than The Staple Of His Argument.