O Hell! To Choose Love

Death Rock Me Asleep.

Patience Is Sottish, And Impatience Does Become A Dog That's Mad.

Angels And Ministers Of Grace Defend Us! Be Thou A Spirit Of Health, Or Goblin Damn'd, Bring With Thee Airs From Heaven, Or Blasts From Hell, Be Thy Intents Wicked, Or Charitable, Thou Com'st In Such A Questionable Shape, That I Will Speak To Thee.

Here Come The Lovers, Full Of Joy And Mirth.— Joy, Gentle Friends! Joy And Fresh Days Of Love Accompany Your Hearts!

Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll Hand In Hand.