My Love To Thee Is Sound, Sans

When Our Actions Do Not, Our Fears Make Us Traitors.

You're In Love? Out Out Of Love? I Love Someone. She Doesn't Love Me.

My Love Admits No Qualifying Dross

I Do Love Nothing In The World So Well As You- Is Not That Strange?

Who Has A Book Of All That Monarchs Do, He's More Secure To Keep It Shut Than Shown; For Vice Repeated Is Like The Wand'ring Wind, Blows Dust In Others' Eye, To Spread Itself; And Yet The End Of All Is Bought Thus Dear, The Breath Is Gone, And The Sore Eyes See Clear To Stop The Air Would Hurt Them.