Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To

Pleasure And Action Make The Hours Seem Short.

Nay, We Must Think Men Are Not Gods, Nor Of Them Look For Such Observancy As Fits The Bridal.

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.

Speak The Speech, I Pray You, As I Pronounce It To You, Trippingly On The Tongue; But If You Mouth It, As Many Of Your Players Do, I Had As Lief The Town-crier Spoke My Lines.

By God, I Cannot Flatter, I Do Defy The Tongues Of Soothers! But A Braver Place In My Heart's Love Hath No Man Than Yourself. Nay, Task Me To My Word; Approve Me, Lord.