Such Antics Do Not Amount To A

I Do Not Hate A Proud Man, As I Do Hate The Engendering Of Toads.

There Is No Slander In An Allowed Fool, Though He Do Nothing But Rail.

If After Every Tempest Come Such Calms, May The Winds Blow Till They Have Waken'd Death!

The Morning Steals Upon The Night, Melting The Darkness.

Get Thee Glass Eyes, And Like A Scurvy Politician, Seem To See The Things Thou Dost Not.