Thou Art Sad; Get Thee A Wife,

They Whose Guilt Within Their Bosom Lies, Imagine Every Eye Beholds Their Blame.

With Mirth And Laughter Let Old Wrinkles Come.

I Have Touched The Highest Point Of All My Greatness.

He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Enriches Him And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

Their Savage Eyes Turned To A Modest Gaze By The Sweet Power Of Music.