I Will Go Wash; And

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.

Art Made Tongue-tied By Authority.

Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

Good Morning To You, Fair And Gracious Daughter.

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.