My Dancing Days Are Past.

It Is True Fortitude To Stand Firm Against All Shocks Of Fate, When Cowards Faint And Die In Fear To Suffer More Calamity.

Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued, Give A Kind Of Credit To A False Accusation.

What Pity 'tis, One That Can Speak So Well, Should In His Actions Be So Ill!

Like A Rough Orator, That Brings More Truth Than Rhetoric, To Make Good His Accusation.

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.