Mercy But Murders, Pardoning Those That Kill.

My Free Drift Halts Not Particularly, But Moves Itself In A Wide Sea Of Wax; No Levelled Malice Infects One Comma In The Course I Hold, But Flies An Eagle Flight, Bold And Forth On, Leaving No Tract Behind.

There Should Be Hours For Necessities, Not For Delights; Times To Repair Our Nature With Comforting Repose, And Not For Us To Waste These Times.

Things Done Well And With A Care, Exempt Themselves From Fear.

I'll Look To Like; If Looking, Liking Move.

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue