From The King To The

They Are Only Safe That Know To Soothe The Prince's Appetite, And Serve His Lusts.

What A Seaof Melting Ice I Walk On!

He That Knows No Guilt Can Know No Fear.

What Pity 'tis, One That Can Speak So Well, Should In His Actions Be So Ill!

Shall This Nectar Run Useless, Then, To Waste? Or ... These Lips, That Open Like The Morn, Breathing Perfumes, On Such As Dare Approach Them, Be Untouch'd? They Must--nay, 'tis In Vain To Make Resistance-- Be Often Kissed And Tasted.