This Is The Very Coinage Of Your

I'll Look To Like; If Looking, Liking Move.

Read O'er This And After, This, And Then To Breakfast With What Appetite You Have.

Kent. Where's The King? Gent. Contending With The Fretful Elements; Bids The Wind Blow The Earth Into The Sea, Or Swell The Curled Waters 'bove The Main, That Things Might Change Or Cease; Tears His White Hair, Which The Impetuous Blasts, With Eyeless Rage, Catch In Their Fury And Make Nothing Of; Strives In His Little World Of Man To Outscorn The To-and-fro-conflicting Wind And Rain. This Night, Wherein The Cub-drawn Bear Would Couch, The Lion And The Belly-pinched Wolf Keep Their Fur Dry, Unbonneted He Runs, And Bids What Will Take All.

I Understand Thy Kisses, And Thou Mine, And That's A Feeling Disputation.

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.