A Peace Is Of The Nature Of

What Drink'st Thou Oft, Instead Of Homage Sweet, But Poisoned Flattery?

Come, Seeling Night, Scarf Up The Tender Eye Of Pitiful Day, And With Thy Bloody And Invisible Hand Cancel And Tear To Pieces That Great Bond Which Keeps Me Pale. Light Thickens, And The Crow Makes Wing To Th' Rooky Wood. Good Things Of Day Begin To Droop And Drowse, While Night's Black Agents To Their Prey Do Rouse.

As I Love The Name Of Honour More Than I Fear Death.

Who Can Be Wise, Amazed, Temperate And Furious, Loyal And Neutral, In A Moment? No Man.

Thou Shalt Be Both The Plaintiff And The Judge Of Thine Own Cause.