Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make

The Crow Doth Sing As Sweetly As The Lark When Neither Is Attended; And I Think The Nightingale, If She Should Sing By Day When Every Goose Is Cackling, Would Be Thought No Better A Musician Than The Wren. How Many Thing By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!

Fear And Niceness, The Handmaids Of All Women, Or More Truly, Woman Its Pretty Self.

The Fear's As Bad As Falling.

Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

Then Is It Sin To Rush Into The Secret House Of Death. Ere Death Dare Come To Us?