Let Each Man Do His Best.

The Law Hath Not Been Dead, Though It Hath Slept.

Lord, I Could Not Endure A Husband With A Beard On His Face! I Had Rather Lie In The Woolen.

I Hold It Cowardice To Rest Mistrustful Where A Noble Heart Hath Pawned An Open Hand In Sign Of Love.

Away, You Cut-purse Rascal! You Filthy Bung, Away! By This Wine, I'll Thrust My Knife In Your Mouldy Chaps, An You Play The Saucy Cuttle With Me. Away, You Bottle-ale Rascal! You Basket-hilt Stale Juggler, You!

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.