Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

An Honest Tale Speeds Best Being Plainly Told.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On.

Ingrateful Man With Liquorish Draughts, And Morsels Unctuous, Greases His Pure Mind That From It All Consideration Slips.