All Days Are Nights To See Till

To Whom God Will, There Be The Victory.

Beauty Itself Doth Of Itself Persuade The Eyes Of Men Without An Orator.

Foul Cankering Rust The Hidden Treasure Frets, But Gold That's Put To Use More Gold Begets.

Virtue Preserv'd From Fell Destruction's Blast, Led On By Heaven, And Crown'd With Joy At Last.

O Call Not Me To Justify The Wrong, That Thy Unkindness Lays Upon My Heart, Wound Me Not With Thine Eye But With Thy Tongue, Use Power With Power, And Slay Me Not By Art.