To Mingle Friendship Far Is Mingling Bloods.

Will Fortune Never Come With Both Hands Full, But Write Her Fair Words Still In Foulest Terms?

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means. By Heaven, I Had Rather Coin My Heart, And Drop My Blood For Drachmas

The Tempter Or The Tempted, Who Sins Most? Ha! Not She: Nor Doth She Tempt: But It Is I That, Lying By The Violet In The Sun, Do As The Carrion Does, Not As The Flower, Corrupt With Virtuous Season.

So Well Thy Words Become Thee As Thy Wounds.

Let Fancy Still In My Sense In Lethe Steep; If It Be Thus To Dream, Still Let Me Sleep!