Talking Isn't Doing. It Is A Kind

Men At Some Time Are Masters Of Their Fates.

Then Others For Breath Of Words Respect, Me For My Dumb Thoughts, Speaking In Effect.

Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul To Hear A Robust Periwig-pated Fellow, Tear A Passion To Tatters, To Very Rags, To Split The Ears Of The Groundlings.

Most Friendship Is Faining, Most Loving Mere Folly: Then, Heigh-ho, The Holly. This Life Is Most Jolly.

And She's Fair I Love.