Teach thy necessity to reason thus; There is no virtue like necessity

Cudgel thy brains no more about it.

O true apothecary!Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving

Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.