Foul Whisp'rings Are Abroad.

O, I Have Suffered With Those That I Saw Suffer!

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

Your Face, My Thane, Is As A Book Where Men May Read Strange Matters. To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time; Bear Welcome In Your Eye, Your Hand, Your Tongue: Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under't.

My Love Is Strengthen'd, Though More Weak In Seeming; I Love Not Less, Though Less The Show Appear: That Love Is Merchandised Whose Rich Esteeming The Owner's Tongue Doth Publish Every Where.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.