Remembrance Of Things Past.

Weep Not, Sweet Queen, For Trickling Tears Are Vain.

The Sweets We Wish For, Turn To Loathed Sours, Even In The Moment That We Call Them Ours.

You'd Be So Lean, That Blast Of January Would Blow You Through And Through. Now, My Fair'st Friend, I Would I Had Some Flowers O' The Spring That Might Become Your Time Of Day.

The King-becoming Graces, As Justice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stableness, Bounty, Perseverance, Mercy, Lowliness, Devotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude, I Have No Relish Of Them, But Abound In The Division Of Each Several Crime, Acting In Many Ways.

Suit The Action To The Word : The Word To The Action : With This Special Observance That You O'erstep Not The Modesty Of Nature.