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

Angels and ministers of grace defend us.

O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven; keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.

Present fears are less than horrible imaginings.

This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of Caesar;He only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!

Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.