I Had As Lief Have Been Myself

There Is Plenty Of Time To Sleep In The Grave

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror

Your "if" Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In "if.

Thou Hast Her, France; Let Her Be Thine, For We Have No Such Daughter, Nor Shall Ever See That Face Of Hers Again. Therefore Be Gone Without Our Grace, Our Love, Our Benison.

For By His Face Straight Shall You Know His Heart.