A Breath Thou Art, Servile To All

A Hit, A Very Palpable Hit.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

The Wounds Invisible That Love's Keen Arrows Make.

He Doth Nothing But Talk Of His Horses.

No Visor Does Become Black Villainy So Well As Soft And Tender Flattery.