Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me

Love Is Like A Child, That Longs For Everything It Can Come By

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

Then Know, That I Have Little Wealth To Lose. A Man I Am, Crossed With Adversity; My Riches Are These Poor Habiliments, Of Which If You Should Here Disfurnish Me, You Take The Sum And Substance That I Have.

And In The Morn And Liquid Dew Of Youth, Contagious Blastments Are Are Most Imminent.

The Devil Knew What He Did When He Made Men Politic; He Crossed Himself By It.