The Dullness Of The Fool

Your Tale, Sir, Would Cure Deafness.

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

And In Some Perfumes There Is More Delight Than In The Breath That From My Mistress Reeks. I Love To Hear Her Speak, Yet Well I Know That Music Hath A Far More Pleasing Sound.

Women's Weapons, Water-drops.