Words, Words, Mere Words, No Matter From

Mercy But Murders, Pardoning Those That Kill.

Children Wish Fathers Looked But With Their Eyes; Fathers That Children With Their Judgment Looked; And Either May Be Wrong.

I Will Keep Where There Is Wit Stirring, And Leave The Faction Of Fools.

Or Art Thou But / A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, / Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?

Tax Not So Bad A Voice To Slander Music Any More Than Once.