The Tongues Of Mocking Wenches Are As

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.

O, Train Me Not, Sweet Mermaid, With Thy Note, To Drown Me In Thy Sister’s Flood Of Tears.

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

O, Let Him Pass. He Hates Him That Would Upon The Rack Of This Tough World Stretch Him Out Longer.

If The Masses Can Love Without Knowing Why, They Also Hate Without Much Foundation.