Speak, My Fair, And Fairly, I Pray

I Wonder Men Dare Trust Themselves With Men.

Think'st Thou I'd Make A Life Of Jealousy, To Follow Still The Changes Of The Moon With Fresh Suspicions? No; To Be Once In Doubt Is Once To Be Resolved.

The Love Of Wicked Men Converts To Fear; That Fear To Hate, And Hate Turns One Or Both To Worthy Danger And Deserved Death.

Glory Grows Guilty Of Detested Crimes.

For Though The Camomile, The More It Is Trodden On The Faster It Grows, Yet Youth, The More It Is Wasted, The Sooner It Wears.