O, How Full Of Briers Is This

Most Friendship Is Faining, Most Loving Mere Folly: Then, Heigh-ho, The Holly. This Life Is Most Jolly.

They Are In The Very Wrath Of Love, And They Will Go Together. Clubs Cannot Part Them

What E'er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part.

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun.

Or Are You Like The Painting Of A Sorrow, A Face Without A Heart?