Men That Make Envy And

I Am Not Of That Feather, To Shake Off My Friend When He Must Need Me

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank Here We Will Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness, And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony

A Loud Laugh Bespeaks A Vacant Mind!

Such As We Are Made Of, Such We Be.

O Faithless Coward! O Dishonest Wretch! Wilt Thou Be Made A Man Out Of My Vice?