Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania

I'll Give My Jewels For A Set Of Beads, My Gorgeous Palace For A Hermitage, My Gay Apparel For An Almsman's Gown, My Figured Goblets For A Dish Of Wood, My Scepter For A Palmer's Walking Staff My Subjects For A Pair Of Carved Saints And My Large Kingdom For A Little Grave.

And Send Him Many Years Of Sunshine Days!

Thy Tongue Makes Welsh As Sweet As Ditties Highly Penn'd, Sung By A Fair Queen In A Summer's Bower, With Ravishing Division, To Her Lute.

Who Knows Himself A Braggart, Let Him Fear This; For It Will Come To Pass That Every Braggart Will Be Found An Ass.

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.