So. Lie There, My Art.

You Jig, You Amble, And You Lisp.

We Make Ourselves Fools To Disport Ourselves And Spend Our Flatteries To Drink Those Men Upon Whose Age We Void It Up Again With Poisonous Spite And Envy.

What Fates Impose, That Men Must Needs Abide; It Boots Not To Resist Both Wind And Tide.

Marry, Sir, They Praise Me And Make An Ass Of Me. Now My Foes Tell Me Plainly I Am An Ass; So That By My Foes, Sir, I Profit In The Knowledge Of Myself, Any By My Friends I Am Abused; So That, Conclusions To Be As Kisses, If Your Four Negatives Make Your Two Affirmatives, Why Then, The Worse For My Friends, And The Better For My Foes.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help Thee In Thy Need: If Thou Sorrow, He Will Weep; If Thou Wake, He Cannot Sleep: Thus Of Every Grief In Heart He With Thee Does Bear A Part. These Are Certain Signs To Know Faithful Friend From Flattering Foe.