A Poor Thing, Perhaps, But

Those Friends Thou Hast, And Their Adoption Tried, Grapple Them To Thy Soul With Hoops Of Steel; But Do Not Dull Thy Palm With Entertainment Of Each New-hatch'd, Unfledg'd Comrade.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.

Heaven Truly Knows That Thou Art False As Hell.

You Common Cry Of Curs! Whose Breath I Hate As Reek O' The Rotten Fens, Whose Loves I Prize As The Dead Carcasses Of Unburied Men That Do Corrupt My Air, I Banish You; And Here Remain With Your Uncertainty!

You Lie, In Faith; For You Are Call'd Plain Kate, And Bonny Kate And Sometimes Kate The Curst; But Kate, The Prettiest Kate In Christendom Kate Of Kate Hall, My Super-dainty Kate, For Dainties Are All Kates, And Therefore, Kate, Take This Of Me, Kate Of My Consolation; Hearing Thy Mildness Praised In Every Town, Thy Virtues Spoke Of, And Thy Beauty Sounded, Yet Not So Deeply As To Thee Belongs, Myself Am Moved To Woo Thee For My Wife.