Patch Up Thine Old Body For Heaven.

I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At Him.

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun, And With Him Rise Weeping.

We Should Hold Day With The Antipodes, If You Would Walk In Absence Of The Sun.

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.