We Will Have Rings And Things And

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

Now, By The World, It Is A Lusty Wench; I Love Her Ten Times More Than E'er I Did: O, How I Long To Have Some Chat With Her!

Would The Cook Were O' My Mind!

Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You Should Mar Your Fortunes.

She's Good, Being Gone.