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ROMEO: Farewell! I will omit no opportunity That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. JULIET: 0, think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

ROMEO: I doubt it not; and all these woes shall


For sweet discourses in our time to come.


Oh, but to fade, and live we know not where,
To be a cold obstruction and to groan!
This sensible, warm woman to become
A prudish clod; and the delighted spirit
To live and die alone, or to reside

With married sisters, and to have the care
Of half a dozen children, not your own;
And driven, for no one wants you,

Round about the pendant world; or worse than


Of those that disappointment and pure spite
Have driven to madness: "Tis too horrible!
The weariest and most troubled married life
That age, ache, penury, or jealousy
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To being an old maid.


There was an old man who lived in a wood, As you may plainly see;

He said he could do as much work in a day As his wife could do in three.

"With all my heart," the old woman said, "If that you will allow,

To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead, And I'll go drive the plough;'

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"But you must milk the Tidy cow,
For fear she may go dry;

And you must feed the little pigs
That are within the sty;

"And you must mind the speckled hen,

For fear she lay away;

And you must reel the spool of

That I spun yesterday."


The old woman took a whip in her hand,

And went to drive the plough;

The old man took a pail in his hand,

And went to milk the cow;

But Tidy hinched and Tidy flinched,

And Tidy broke his nose,

And Tidy gave him such a blow

That the blood ran down to his toes.

"High! Tidy! ho! Tidy! high! Tidy! do stand still!

If ever I milk you, Tidy, again, "Twill be so against my will.'


He went to feed the little pigs,
That were within the sty;
He hit his head against the beam,
And he made the blood to fly.

He went to mind the speckled hen,
For fear she'd lay astray,
And he forgot the spool of yarn
His wife spun yesterday.

So he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars, And the green leaves on the tree,

If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life, She should ne'er be ruled by he.



Love was coming down the lane,

Winged, rosy, blind;

In his hand his little bow,
Quiver snug behind.

Now, I thought, he cannot see;

If I stand aside,

He must pass me ignorant,
Therefore satisfied.

Kept I silent in my place;
Near, more near, he came,
While the beating of my heart
Fanned each cheek to flame.

And I, anxious, held my breath,
He will pass me-no!
He is crying! Pretty dear,
It should not be so.

Touched with pity, then quoth I:

"Weep, oh, weep no more!" And he, laughing, sent this shaft To my bosom's core.


Matthew and Mark and Luke and John the Holy Gospels wrote

Describing how the Saviour died. His life, and

all he taught.

Acts proved how God the Apostles owned with signs in every place,

And Paul in Romans teaches us how man is saved

by grace.

The Apostle in Corinthians instructs, exhorts,


Galatians shows that faith in Christ alone the Father loves.

Ephesians and Philippians tell what Christians ought to be,

Colossians bids us live to God and for eternity. In Thessalonians we are taught the Lord will come from heaven.

In Timothy and Titus a Bishop's rule is given. Philemon shows a Christian's love as only Chris

tians saw.

Hebrews reveals the Gospel grace prefigured by

the law.

James teaches without holiness faith is but vain and dead.

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