Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

Some Sins Do Bear Their Privilege On Earth, And So Doth Yours: Your Fault Was Not Your Folly; Needs Must You Lay Your Heart At His Dispose, Subjected Tribute To Commanding Love, Against Whose Fury And Unmatched Force The Aweless Lion Could Not Wage The Fight Nor Keep His Princely Heart From Richard's Hand.