No Man Means Evil But The Devil,

By My Soul I Swear, There Is No Power In The Tongue Of Man To Alter Me.

Wisdom And Goodness To The Vile Seem Vile; Filths Savour But Themselves.

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.

These Blessed Candles Of The Night.

For Night's Swift Dragons Cut The Clouds Full Fast, And Yonder Shines Aurora's Harbinger; At Whose Approach Ghosts Wandring Here And There Troop Home To Church-yards.... For Fear Lest Day Should Look Their Shames Upon, They Willfully Exile Themselves From Light, And Must For Aye Consort With Black Brow'd Night.