Who With A Little Cannot

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction.

Next, When I Cast Mine Eyes And See That Brave Vibration Each Way Free, O How That Glittering Taketh Me!

Give Me A Kiss, And To That Kiss A Score: Then To That Twenty, Add A Hundred More.

Learn This Of Me, Where'er Thy Lot Doth Fall, Short Lot, Or Not, To Be Content With All.