What, With My Tongue In Your Tail?

Doubting Things Go Ill Often Hurts More Than To Be Sure They Do; For Certainties Either Are Past Remedies, Or, Timely Knowing, The Remedy Then Born.

You Know That I Do Fawn On Men, And Hug Them Hard, And After Scandal Them.

So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That Feeds On Men.

Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.