Now I Am Past All Comforts Here,

The Silence Often Of Pure Innocence Persuades When Speaking Fails.

We Must Love Men, Ere To Us They Will Seem Worthy Of Our Love.

Bounty, Being Free Itself, Thinks All Others So.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind