You Are An Alchemist; Make Gold Of

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.

Tis Gold Which Buys Admittance--oft It Doth--yea, And Makes Diana's Rangers False Themselves, Yield Up This Deer To Th' Stand O' Th' Stealer: And 'tis Gold Which Makes The True Man Kill'd And Saves The Thief, Nay, Sometimes Hangs Both Thief And True Man.

Dissembling Courtesy! How Fine This Tyrant Can Trickle When She Wounds!

The Time Of Life Is Short; To Spend That Shortness Basely Were Too Long.

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall Up With Our English Dead! In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger.