You Are Thought Here To The Most

You, And Your Lady, Take From My Heart All Thankfulness!

A Plague Of Sighing And Grief! It Blows A Man Up Like A Bladder.

I Wish You All The Joy That You Can Wish.

What Showers Arise, Blown With The Windy Tempest Of My Heart

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.