Whom The Disease Of Talking Still Once

Man And Wife Make One Fool.

Out Of Clothes Out Of Countenance, Out Of Countenance Out Of Wit.

Nor For My Peace Will I Go Far, As Wanderers Do, That Still Do Roam, But Make My Strengths, Such As They Are, Here In My Bosom, And At Home.

Weigh The Meaning And Look Not At The Words.

Spread Yourself Upon His Bosom Publicly, Whose Heart You Would Eat In Private.