Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every

Teach Not Thy Lip Such Scorn, For It Was Made For Kissing, Lady, Not For Such Contempt.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None: Be Able For Thine Enemy Rather In Power Than Use; And Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key: Be Check'd For Silence, But Never Tax'd For Speech.

Things Base And Vile, Holding No Quantity, Love Can Transpose To Form And Dignity

Then Is It Sin To Rush Into The Secret House Of Death. Ere Death Dare Come To Us?

Though Patience Be A Tired Mare, Yet She Will Plod.