Like Will To Like, Each Creature Loves

Seldom Comes Glory Till A Man Be Dead.

Our Present Tears Here, Not Our Present Laughter Are But The Handsells Of Our Joys Hereafter.

I Sing Of Brooks, Of Blossoms, Birds, And Bowers: Of April, May, Or June, And July Flowers. I Sing Of Maypoles, Hock-carts, Wassails, Wakes, Of Bridegrooms, Brides, And Of The Bridal Cakes.

Bid Me To Live, And I Will Live Thy Protestant To Be: Or Bid Me Love, And I Will Give A Loving Heart To Thee, A Heart As Soft, A Heart As Kind, A Heart As Sound And Free As In The Whole World Thou Canst Find, That Heart I'll Give To Thee.

Necessity Makes Dastards Valiant Men.