If You Love An Addle Egg As

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle.

Time Doth Transfix The Flourish Set On Youth And Delves The Parallels In Beauty's Brow.

Thrice Is He Arm'd That Hath His Quarrel Just, And He But Naked, Though Lock'd Up In Steel, Whose Conscience With Injustice Is Corrupted.

One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One Pain Is Lessen'd By Another's Anguish.

So Our Virtues Lie In The Interpretation Of The Time