There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends,

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

An Envious Fever Of Pale And Bloodless Emulation.

Well, God's Above All; And There Be Souls Must Be Saved, And There Be Souls Must Not Be Saved.

Or Are You Like The Painting Of A Sorrow, A Face Without A Heart?

It Was A Lover And His Lass, With A Hey, And A Ho, And A Hey Nonino, That O'er The Green Corn-field Did Pass, In The Spring Time, The Only Pretty Ring Time, When Birds Do Sing, Hey Ding A Ding, Ding; Sweet Lovers Love The Spring.