Wilt Thou Whip Thine Own Faults In

I Am As True As Truth's Simplicity, And Simpler Than The Infancy Of Truth.

I Have Seen The Day Of Wrong Through The Little Hole Of Discretion, And I Will Right Myself Like A Soldier.

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means.