And To Thy Husband's Will Thine Shall

Sweet Bird, That Shun The Noise Of Folly, Most Musical, Most Melancholy!

Death Grinn'd Horrible A Ghastly Smile, To Hear His Famine Should Be Fill'd.

Just Are The Ways Of God, And Justifiable To Men; Unless There Be Who Think Not God At All.

Of Calling Shapes, And Beck'ning Shadows Dire, And Airy Tongues That Syllable Men's Names.

Necessity And Chance Approach Not Me, And What I Will Is Fate.