Sleep Dwell Upon Thine Eyes, Peace In

I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark.

I Shall Despair. There Is No Creature Loves Me; And If I Die No Soul Will Pity Me: And Wherefore Should They, Since That I Myself Find In Myself No Pity To Myself?

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

Travelers Never Did Lie, Though Fools At Home Condemn Them.

Press Not A Falling Man Too Far; 'tis Virtue: His Faults Lie Open To The Laws; Let Them, Not You, Correct Him.