Let Me Have War, Say I; It

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.

But There Is No Such Man; For, Brother, Men Can Counsel And Speak Comfort To That Grief Which They Themselves Not Feel; But, Tasting It, Their Counsel Turns To Passion, Which Before Would Give Preceptial Medicine To Rage, Fetter Strong Madness In A Silken Thread, Charm Ache With Air And Agony With Words.

In The Night, Imagining Some Fear, How Easy Is A Bush Supposed A Bear!

By A Divine Instinct, Men's Minds Mistrust Ensuing Danger; As, By Proof, We See The Waters Swell Before A Boisterous Storm.

Give Me To Drink Mandragora.