My Hands Are Guilty, But My Heart

Bets At First Were Fool-traps, Where The Wise Like Spiders Lay In Ambush For The Flies.

Heaven Be Thanked, We Live In Such An Age, When No Man Dies For Love, But On The Stage.

The First Is The Law, The Last Prerogative.

Satire Among The Romans, But Not Among The Greeks, Was A Bitter Invective Poem.

All Objects Lose By Too Familiar A View.