When That Churl Death My Bones With

They Are Hare-brain'd Slaves.

Fair Youth, I Would I Could Make Thee Believe I Love.

Ay, But To Die, And Go We Know Not Where.

Men Of Few Words Are The Best Men." (3.2.41)

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