Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

No Evil Lost Is Wailed When It Is Gone.

Enough No More; Tis Not So Sweet Now As It Was Before.

Nature, As It Grows Again Toward Earth, Is Fashioned For The Journey, Dull And Heavy.

Thou And I Are Too Wise To Woo Peaceably.

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!