The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Either Our History Shall With Full Mouth Speak Freely Of Our Acts, Or Else Our Grave, Like Turkish Mute, Shall Have A Tongueless Mouth, Not Worshipped With A Waxen Epitaph.

Forget, Forgive; Conclude, And Be Agreed.

The Bashful Virgin's Sidelong Looks Of Love, The Matron's Glance That Would Those Looks Reprove.

Up And Down, Up And Down I Will Lead Them Up And Down I Am Feared In Field In Town Goblin, Lead Them Up And Down

Affection Faints Not Like A Pale-faced Coward, But Then Woos Best When Most His Choice Is Froward.