Alas, How Love Can Trifle With Itself!

To Think But Nobly Of My Grandmother: Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons.

But When The Fox Hath Once Got In His Nose, He'll Soon Find Means To Make The Body Follow.

Your Face Is A Book, Where Men May Read Strange Matters.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives, In Your Weakness, Strength Unto Your Foe, And So Your Follies Fight Against Yourself. Fear, And Be Slain--so Worse Can Come To Fight; And Fight And Die Is Death Destroying Death, Where Fearing Dying Pays Death Servile Breath.

You Had Measured How Long A Fool You Were Upon The Ground.