Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.
A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.