If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.
The first draught serveth for health, the second for pleasure, the third for shame, the fourth for madness.
Fain would I, but I dare not; I dare, and yet I may not;
I may, although I care not, for pleasure when I play not.
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