Fortune Is Merry, And In This Mood

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

Heaven Is Above All Yet; There Sits A Judge, That No King Can Corrupt.

The Heavens Themselves, The Planets, And This Centre Observe Degree, Priority, And Place, Insisture, Course, Proportion, Season, Form, Office, And Custom, In All Line Of Order.

In Springtime, The Only Pretty Ring Time Birds Sing, Hey Ding A-ding, A-ding Sweet Lovers Love The Spring—

Even So; An't Please Your Worship, Brakenbury, You May Partake Of Any Thing We Say: We Speak No Treason, Man; We Say The King Is Wise And Virtuous, And His Noble Queen Well Struck In Years, Fair, And Not Jealous; We Say That Shore's Wife Hath A Pretty Foot, A Cherry Lip, A Bonny Eye, A Passing Pleasing Tongue; And That The Queen's Kindred Are Made Gentlefolks.