Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

The Brightness Of Her Cheek Would Shame Those Stars As Daylight Doth A Lamp; Her Eyes In Heaven Would Through The Airy Region Stream So Bright That Birds Would Sing, And Think It Were Not Night.

Speak, My Fair, And Fairly, I Pray Thee.

The Quality Of Nothing Hath Not Such Need To Hide Itself

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.

Watch Tonight, Pray Tomorrow. Gallants, Lads, Boys, Hearts Of Gold, All The Titles Of Good Fellowship Come To You!