Joy Steals Upon Me, Such Joy As

Nought Is There In Wealth That Serves As Bulwark 'gainst The Subtle Stealth Of Destiny And Doom.

The Tongue Of Slander Is Too Prompt With Wanton Malice To Wound The Stranger.

Do Not Kick Against The Pricks.

A Great Ox Stands On My Tongue.

The Anvil Of Justice Is Planted Firm, And Fate Who Makes The Sword Does The Forging In Advance.