There Is Nothing But Roguery To Be

Here Feel We But The Penalty Of Adam, The Seasons' Difference, As The Icy Fang And Churlish Chiding Of The Winter's Wind, Which, When It Bites And Blows Upon My Body, Even Till I Shrink With Cold, I Smile.

Pause Awhile, And Let My Counsel Sway You.

The Devil Knew What He Did When He Made Men Politic; He Crossed Himself By It.

I Can See He's Not In Your Good Books,' Said The Messenger. 'no, And If He Were I Would Burn My Library.

But Shall We Wear These Glories For A Day? Or Shall They Last, And We Rejoice In Them?