At Christmas, I No More Desire A

But Men May Construe Things After Their Fashion, Clean From The Purpose Of The Things Themselves.

Their Savage Eyes Turned To A Modest Gaze By The Sweet Power Of Music.

I Wish You Well And So I Take My Leave, I Pray You Know Me When We Meet Again.

All The World's A Stage.

In Thee Thy Mother Dies, Our Household's Name, My Death's Revenge, Thy Youth, And England's Fame.