I See That The Fashion Wears Out

I Love A Ballad But Even Too Well If It Be Doleful Matter Merrily Set Down, Or A Very Pleasant Thing Indeed And Sung Lamentably.

Hold, Or Cut Bowstrings.

And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, "it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See," Quoth He, "how The World Wags."

Let's All Cry Peace, Freedom, And Liberty!

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.