The First Mark Of Valor Is Defence.

Ring Out Your Bells! Let Mourning Show Be Spread! For Love Is Dead.

Solitude, The Sly Enemy That Doth Separate A Man From Well-doing.

But Words Came Halting Forth, Wanting Invention's Stay; Invention, Nature's Child, Fled Stepdame Study's Blows; And Others' Feet Still Seemed But Strangers In My Way. Thus, Great With Child To Speak, And Helpless In My Throes, Biting My Truant Pen, Beating Myself For Spite: "fool," Said My Muse To Me, "look In Thy Heart, And Write.

No Is No Negative In A Woman's Mouth.

O You Virtuous Owle, The Wise Minerva's Only Fowle.