I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.

Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily. If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run inot, Thou has not loved. Of if thou has't not sat as I do now, Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise, Thou has not loved. Of if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou has not loved. (Silvius)

Up and down, up and down I will lead them up and down I am feared in field in town Goblin, lead them up and down

He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.

If music be the food of love, play on.