Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.
It also sometimes betrays a kind of fear or dislike—a kind of, for lack of a better term, Blackophobia.
Holly and his merry men, they dancen and they sing; Ivy and her maidens, they weepen and they wring.
And ſpeckl'd Vanity / Will ſicken ſoon and die, / And leprous ſin will melt from earthly mould, […]
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