Misery Makes Sport To Mock

Things Are Often Spoke And Seldom Meant.

To Be In Anger Is Impiety, But Who Is Man That Is Not Angry?

Ay Me! For Aught That Ever I Could Read, Could Ever Hear By Tale Or History, The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.

For He Was Likely, Had He Been Put On, To Have Proved Most Royally.