If It Will Feed Nothing Else, It

Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself.

I May Command Where I Adore.

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate.

The Old Folk, Time's Doting Chronicles.