I Like Not Fair Terms And A

Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors

O, Swear Not By The Moon, The Fickle Moon, The Inconstant Moon, That Monthly Changes In Her Circle Orb, Lest That Thy Love Prove Likewise Variable

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

A Good Leg Will Fall; A Straight Back Will Stoop; A Black Beard Will Turn White; A Curl'd Pate Will Grow Bald; A Fair Face Will Wither; A Full Eye Will Wax Hollow: But A Good Heart, Kate, Is The Sun And The Moon; Or, Rather, The Sun, And Not The Moon, — For It Shines Bright, And Never Changes, But Keeps His Course Truly.

Alack, The Night Comes On, And The Bleak Winds Do Sorely Ruffle; For Many Miles About There's Scarce A Bush.