Small Things Make Base Men Proud.

Under The Greenwood Tree, Who Loves To Lie With Me And Tune His Merry Note, Unto The Sweet Bird's Throat; Come Hither, Come Hither, Come Hither. Here Shall He See No Enemy But Winter And Rough Weather.

'tis Best To Weigh The Enemy More Mighty Than He Seems.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!

Ay Me! Sad Hours Seem Long.

Suffer Love; A Good Epithet! I Do Suffer Love, Indeed, For I Love Thee Against My Will.