My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which
I have made touching the king: read more

My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which
I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready
writer.

Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth, though he hide it under
his tongue;
Though he spare it, read more

Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth, though he hide it under
his tongue;
Though he spare it, and forsake it not; but keep it still within
his mouth:
Yet his meat in his bowels is turned, it is the gall of asps
within him.

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and question deep,
All replication read more

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will; . . .

Since word is thrall, and thought is free,
Keep well thy tongue, I counsel thee.

Since word is thrall, and thought is free,
Keep well thy tongue, I counsel thee.

I cannot, nor I will not hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

I cannot, nor I will not hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
of man: thou shalt keep them read more

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
of man: thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the
strife of tongues.

The windy satisfaction of the tongue.

The windy satisfaction of the tongue.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

All swol'n with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boist'rous and unruly beast;
And now the happy read more

All swol'n with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boist'rous and unruly beast;
And now the happy season once more fits
That lovesick Love by pleading may be blest;
For lovers say the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barred the aidance of the tongue.