Mine Eyes Are Full Of Tears, My

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself

Now, Good Digestion Wait On Appetite, And Health On Both!

Most Dear Actors, Eat No Onions Nor Garlic, For We Are To Utter Sweet Breath.

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

Make The Upcoming Hour Overflow With Joy, And Let Pleasure Drown The Brim.