I Am A Feather For Each Wind

I'll Not Meddle With It; It Is A Dangerous Thing; It Makes A Man A Coward; A Man Cannot Steal, But It Accuseth Him; A Man Cannot Swear, But It Checks Him; A Man Cannot Lie With His Neighbor's Wife, But It Detects Him. 'tis A Blushing, Shame -faced Spirit, That Mutinies In A Man's Bosom ; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles; It Made Me Once Restore A Purse Of Gold That By Chance I Found; It Beggars Any Man That Keeps It; It Is Turned Out Of All Towns And Cities For A Dangerous Thing; And Every Man That Means To Live Well Endeavors To Trust To Himself And Live Without It.

Good Things Should Be Praised.

My Affection Hath An Unknown Bottom, Like The Bay Of Portugal.

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On, Give Me Excess Of It; That Surfeiting, The Appetite May Sicken, And So Die.

As For My Wife, I Would You Had Her Spirit In Such Another; The Third O' Th' World Is Yours, Which With A Snaffle You May Pace Easy, But Not Such A Wife.