I Have More Care To Stay Than

Silence Is The Perfectest Herald Of Joy: I Were But Little Happy, If I Could Say How Much. Lady, As You Are Mine, I Am Yours: I Give Away Myself For You And Dote Upon The Exchange.

And This, Our Life, Exempt From Public Haunt, Finds Tongues In Trees, Books In The Running Brooks, Sermons In Stones, And Good In Everything.

Let Them Obey That Knows Not How To Rule.

Lay On, Mcduff, And Be Damned He Who First Cries, 'hold, Enough!

Grief Makes One Hour Ten.