Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen

Let Each Man Do His Best.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves: The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament. In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupt, But, Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice, Obscures The Show Of Evil? In Religion, What Damned Error, But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament? There Is No Vice So Simple But Assumes Some Mark Of Virtue On His Outward Parts.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings... All Murdered; For Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King, Keeps Death His Court... And With A Little Pin Bores Through His Castle Wall, And Farewell King!

Thus Can The Demigod Authority Make Us Pay Down For Our Offense By Weight The Words Of Heaven; On Whom It Will, It Will, On Whom It Will Not, So: Yet Still 'tis Just.

A Grandma's Name Is Little Less In Love Than Is The Doting Title Of A Mother.