A Sympathy In Choice.

Now The Melancholy Of God Protect Thee, And The Tailor Make Thy Doublet Of Changable Taffata, For Thy Mind Is A Very Opal. I Would Have Men Of Such Constancy Put To Sea, That Their Business Might Be Everything, And Their Intent Everywhere, For That's It, That Always Makes A Good Voyage Of Nothing.

Foul Deeds Will Rise, Though All The Earth O'erwhelm Them, To Men's Eyes.

It Is Not, Nor It Cannot, Come To Good, But Break, My Heart, For I Must Hold My Tongue.

Age, I Do Abhor Thee, Youth, I Do Adore Thee.

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.