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7/4/2025, 2:54:05 PM
>If it chance your eye offend you
>Pluck it out, lad, and be sound:
>'Twill hurt, but there are salves to friend you
>And many a balsam grows on ground.
>
>And if your hand or foot offend you,
>Cut it off, lad, and be whole;
>But play the man, stand up and end you,
>When your sickness is your soul.
>Pluck it out, lad, and be sound:
>'Twill hurt, but there are salves to friend you
>And many a balsam grows on ground.
>
>And if your hand or foot offend you,
>Cut it off, lad, and be whole;
>But play the man, stand up and end you,
>When your sickness is your soul.
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