Farewell! God Knows When We Shall Meet

Thou Mak'st Me Merry: I Am Full Of Pleasure; Let Us Be Jocund

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.

What Stronger Breastplate Than A Heart Untainted! Thrice Is He Arm'd, That Hath His Quarrel Just.

O Most Delicate Fiend! Who Is't Can Read A Woman? Is There More?

Our Rash Faults Make Trivial Price Of Serious Thing We Have, Not Knowing Them Until We Know Their Grave.