Ill News Are Swallow-winged, But What Is

Shall This Nectar Run Useless, Then, To Waste? Or ... These Lips, That Open Like The Morn, Breathing Perfumes, On Such As Dare Approach Them, Be Untouch'd? They Must--nay, 'tis In Vain To Make Resistance-- Be Often Kissed And Tasted.

Nor Custom, Nor Example, Nor Cast Numbers Of Such As Do Offend, Make Less The Sin.

Giants In Their Promises, But Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance.

If You Like Not Hanging, Drown Yourself; Take Some Course For Your Reputation.

Nay, Droop Not, Fellows; Innocence Should Be Bold.