He Is As Full Of Valor As

One Whom The Music Of His Own Vain Tongue Doth Ravish Like Enchanting Harmony.

Silence Is Only Commendable In A Neat's Tongue Dried, And A Maid Not Vendible.

Bell, Book And Candle Shall Not Drive Me Back, When Gold And Silver Becks Me To Come On.

Alas, That Love, So Gentle In His View, Should Be So Tyrannous And Rough In Proof! *it’s Sad. Love Looks Like A Nice Thing, But It’s Actually Very Rough When You Experience It.*

To This Urn Let Those Repair That Are Either True Or Fair; For These Dead Birds Sigh A Prayer.