It Comes To Pass Oft That A

While We Lie Tumbling In The Hay.

And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, "it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See," Quoth He, "how The World Wags."

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

Slander Lives Upon Succession, For Ever Housed Where It Gets Possession.

And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs'd They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin's Day.