Patch Up Thine Old Body

All Surfeit Is The Father Of Much Fast.

I Thank God I Am As Honest As Any Man Living That Is An Old Man And No Honester Than I.

Look, How This Ring Encompasseth Thy Finger, Even So Thy Breast Encloseth My Poor Heart; Wear Both Of Them, For Both Of Them Are Thine.

O Me, You Juggler, You Canker-blossom, You Thief Of Love!

Who Alone Suffers Suffers Most I' Th' Mind, Leaving Free Things And Happy Shows Behind; But Then The Mind Much Sufferance Doth O'erskip When Grief Hath Mates, And Bearing Fellowship.