I Love A Ballad In Print O'

Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain

Would I Were Dead, If God's Good Will Were So, For What Is In This World But Grief And Woe?

Music Can Minister To Minds Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Its Sweet Oblivious Antidote, Cleanse The Full Bosom Of All Perilous Stuff That Weighs Upon The Heart.

Sycorax Has Grown Into A Hoop

A Great Perturbation In Nature, To Receive At Once The Benefit Of Sleep And Do The Effects Of Watching!