I Am That Merry Wanderer

Alas, Their Love May Be Call'd Appetite. No Motion Of The Liver, But The Palate

Give Obedience Where 'tis Truly Owed.

Tell Me, Daughter Juliet, How Stands Your Dispositions To Be Married" It Is An Honor That I Dream Not Of

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens, To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners: So That If We Will Plant Nettles, Or Sow Lettuce, Set Hyssop And Weed Up Tine, Supply It With One Gender Of Herbs, Or Distract It With Many, Either To Have It Sterile With Idleness, Or Manured With Industry, Why, The Power And Corrigible Authority Of This Lies In Our Wills.

Here Come The Lovers, Full Of Joy And Mirth.— Joy, Gentle Friends! Joy And Fresh Days Of Love Accompany Your Hearts!