Come, Sing Now, Sing; For I Know

The Greatest Attribute Of Heaven Is Mercy; And 'tis The Crown Of Justice, And The Glory

Joys As Winged Dreams Fly Fast, / Why Should Sadness Longer Last? / Grief Is But A Wound To Woe; / Gentlest Fair, Mourn, Mourn No Moe.

'tis Virtue, And Not Birth That Makes Us Noble: Great Actions Speak Great Minds, And Such Should Govern.

It's Impossible To Ravish Me, I'm So Willing.

That Soul That Can Be Honest Is The Only Perfect Man.