In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A

O Coward Conscience, How Dost Thou Afflict Me!

Preferred Three Hours Quicker Over One Moment Late.

Though Men Can Cover Crimes With Bold, Stern Looks, Poor Women's Faces Are Their Own Faults' Books.

If We Are Mark'd To Die, We Are Enow To Do Our Country Loss; And If To Live, The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honour. God's Will! I Pray Thee; Wish Not One Man More.

It Is Not Vain Glory For A Man And His Glass To Confer In His Own Chamber.