all the news nowshould go in the same ship withour knavery and dissimulationno great fleetships like unkissed bodiesnest together at nighttake time to rust
my own acreamong the whorehouses of the LordI walk ’round itfinding no time to speakwalk my mastiff on by the virtuososwith their discreet trickswho are witty till 12 at nightand I am ashamed to sit alonemy candle not enough to lightmy own ache