As Good Luck Would Have It.

Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing.

Brutus, I Do Observe You Now Of Late: I Have Not From Your Eyes That Gentleness And Show Of Love As I Was Wont To Have: You Bear Too Stubborn And Too Strange A Hand Over Your Friend That Loves You. Poor Brutus, With Himself At War, Forgets The Shows Of Love To Other Men.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

Travelers Must Be Content.

Light Seeking Light Doth Light Of Light Beguile: So, Ere You Find Where Light In Darkness Lies, Your Light Grows Dark By Losing Of Your Eyes.