Modest Doubt Is Called The Beacon Of

Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue.

Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It.

I Will Not Choose What Many Men Desire, Because I Will Not Jump With Common Spirits And Rank Me With The Barbarous Multitudes.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.