Take But Degree Away, Untune That String,

Tis Beauty Truly Blent, Whose Red And White Nature's Own Sweet And Cunning Hand Laid On.

What Wouldst Thou Do, Old Man? Think'st Thou That Duty Shall Have Dread To Speak When Power To Flattery Bows?

I Do Love My Country's Good With A Respect More Tender, More Holy And Profound, Then Mine Own Life, My Dear Wife's Estimate, Her Womb Increase, And Treasure Of My Loins.

Every Thing That Grows / Holds In Perfection But A Little Moment.

Before, I Loved Thee As A Brother, John, But Now, I Do Respect Thee As My Soul.