Sigh No More Ladies, Sigh No More,

Men Must Endure Their Going Hence, Even As Their Coming Hither. Ripeness Is All.

Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul To Hear A Robust Periwig-pated Fellow, Tear A Passion To Tatters, To Very Rags, To Split The Ears Of The Groundlings.

Every Man Has A Bag Hanging Before Him, In Which He Puts His Neighbour's Faults, And Another Behind Him In Which He Stows His Own.

Thou Art A Slave, Whom Fortune's Tender Arm With Favour Never Clasp'd; But Bred A Dog.

But I Will Be, A Bridegroom In My Death, And Run Into't As To A Lover's Bed.