No deed, word, thought, your due devotion taint:
Veil, if you will, your head, your soul reveal
To him that only wounded souls can heal:
Be in my house as busy as a bee.
Having a sting for every one but me;
Buzzing in every corner, gath'ring honey:
Let nothing waste, that costs or yieldeth money.
[3524]And when thou seest my heart to mirth incline,
Thy tongue, wit, blood, warm with good cheer and wine:
Then of sweet sports let no occasion scape,