The Hand That Hath Made You Fair

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.

Let Never Day Nor Night Unhallowed Pass, But Still Remember What The Lord Hath Done.

Alack, There Lies More Peril In Thine Eye Than Twenty Of Their Swords: Look Thou But Sweet, And I Am Proof Against Their Enmity.

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come. And Let My Liver Rather Heat With Wine, Than My Heart Cool With Mortifying Groans.

I Had Rather Have A Fool To Make Me Merry Than Experience To Make Me Sad And To Travel For It Too!