And Blind Oblivion Swallowed Cities

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

Ay Me! For Aught That I Could Ever Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth. But, Either It Was Different In Blood,- Or Else It Stood Upon The Choice Of Friends,- Or, If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness Did Lay Siege To It.

I Do Know Of These That Therefore Only Are Reputed Wise For Saying Nothing.

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.

Like A Barber's Chair That Fits All Buttocks.