How Poor Are They That Have Have

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs.

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

Though Music Oft Hath Such A Charm To Make Bad Good, And Good Provoke To Harm.

Love Is Blind And Lovers Cannot See The Pretty Follies That Themselves Commit

Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones.