Nor Shall Our Cups Make Any Guilty

Where It Concerns Himself, Who's Angry At A Slander, Makes It True.

If You Succeed Not, Cast Not Away The Quills Yet, Nor Scratch The Wainscot, Beat Not The Poor Desk, But Bring All To The Forge And File Again; Turn It New.

Thy Praise Or Dispraise Is To Me Alike; One Doth Not Stroke Me, Nor The Other Strike.

And Where She Went, The Flowers Took Thickest Root, As She Had Sow'd Them With Her Odorous Foot.

True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy, Bred And Born But In The Tongue, Is Weak.