Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

The Summer's Flower Is To The Summer Sweet Though To Itself It Only Live And Die

Canst Thou Not Minister To A Mind Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain

Sin, That Amends, Is But Patched With Virtue.

I Thank You All And Here Dismiss You All, And To The Love And Favor Of My Country Commit Myself, My Person, And The Cause.

The Undiscovered Country From Whose Bourn No Traveler Returns.