My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.

I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

Blessings of your heart, you brew good ale.

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun Nor the furious winters' rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.