Bait The Hook Well. This Fish Will

You Are Yoked With A Lamb, That Carries Anger As The Flint Bears Fire; Who, Much Enforced, Shows A Hasty Spank, And Straight Is Cold Again.

I Can Counterfeit The Deep Tragedian; Speak And Look Back, And Pry On Every Side, Tremble And Start, At Wagging Of A Straw, Intending Deep Suspicion.

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

With This Special Observance, That You O'erstep Not The Modesty Of Nature. For Anything So Overdone Is From The Purpose Of Playing, Whose End, Both At The First And Now, Was And Is, To Hold, As 'twere, The Mirror Up To Nature.

And When I Am Forgotten, As I Shall Be, And Asleep In Dull Cold Marble, Where No Mention Of Me Must Be Heard Of, Say, I Taught Thee.