A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A

Have Patience, And Endure

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.

Our Holy Lives Must Win A New World's Crown.

O Momentary Grace Of Mortal Men, Which We More Hunt For Than The Grace Of God!

Britain Is A World By Itself, And We Will Nothing Pay For Wearing Our Own Noses.