I Do Love Nothing In

O Jest Unseen, Inscrutable, Invisible, As A Nose On A Man's Face, Or A Weathercock On A Steeple.

Love Yourself; And In That Love Not Unconsidered Leave Your Honor.

When A Gentlemen Is Disposed To Swear, It Is Not For Any Standers-by To Curtail His Oaths.

But If The While I Think On Thee, Dear Friend, All Losses Are Restored And Sorrows End.

Manhood Is Melted Into Courtesies, Valor Into Compliment, And Men Are Only Turned Into Tongue, And Trim Ones, Too.