Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

The Play's The Thing.

I Am A Foe To Tyrants, And My Country's Friend.

Conscience Is A Blushing, Shamefaced Spirit Than Mutinies In A Man's Bosom; It Fills One Full Of Obstacles.

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

Love That We Cannot Have Is The One That Lasts The Longest,hurts The Deepest,but Feels The Strongest