The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The

Wisdom And Goodness To The Vile Seem Vile; Filths Savour But Themselves.

This We Prescribe, Though No Physician; Deep Malice Makes Too Deep Incision; Forget, Forgive; Conclude And Be Agreed; Our Doctors Say This Is No Month To Bleed.

Plain And Not Honest Is Too Harsh A Style.

By God, I Cannot Flatter, I Do Defy The Tongues Of Soothers! But A Braver Place In My Heart's Love Hath No Man Than Yourself. Nay, Task Me To My Word; Approve Me, Lord.

Time And The Hour Run Through The Roughest Day.