Tis In My Memory Lock'd, And You

Base Is The Slave That Pays.

Tax Not So Bad A Voice To Slander Music Any More Than Once.

Nor Shall This Peace Sleep With Her; But As When The Bird Of Wonder Dies, The Maiden Phoenix, Her Ashes New-create Another Heir As Great In Admiration As Herself.

This Is A Gift That I Have, Simple, Simple; A Foolish Extravagant Spirit Full Of Forms, Figures, Shapes, Objects, Ideas, Apprehensions, Motions, Revolutions; These Are Begot In The Ventricle Of Memory, Nourished In The Womb Of Pia Mater, And Delivered Upon The Mellowing Of Occasion.

Prepare For Mirth, For Mirth Becomes A Feast.