Ay, Is It Not A Language I

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

I Can Counterfeit The Deep Tragedian; Speak And Look Back, And Pry On Every Side, Tremble And Start, At Wagging Of A Straw, Intending Deep Suspicion.

Honor, Riches, Marriage-blessing Long Continuance, And Increasing, Hourly Joys Be Still Upon You!

Kindness Nobler Ever Than Revenge.

Our Praises Are Our Wages.