I Am Not In The

My Hounds Are Bred Out Of The Spartan Kind; So Flew'd, So Sanded; Their Heads Are Hung With Ears That Sweep Away The Morning Dew.

Let Me Have War, Say I; It Exceeds Peace As Far As Day Does Night; It's Spritely, Waking, Audible, And Full Of Vent.

A Great While Ago The World Begun, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain; But That's All One, Our Play Is Done, And We'll Strive To Please You Every Day.

Bounty, Being Free Itself, Thinks All Others So.

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.