I Charge Thee, Hence, And Do Not

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

Keep Up Your Bright Swords, For The Dew Will Rust Them.

Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are Whole.

He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer The Worst That Man Can Breathe, And Make His Wrongs His Outsides, To Wear Them Like His Raiment, Carelessly, And Ne'er Prefer His Injuries To His Heart, To Bring It Into Danger.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.