Greatest Scandal Waits On Greatest State.

More Can I Bear Than You Dare Execute.

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

Yet Nor The Lays Of Birds Nor The Sweet Smell Of Different Flowers In Odour And In Hue Could Make Me Any Summer's Story Tell, Or From Their Proud Lap Pluck Them Where They Grew; Nor Did I Wonder At The Lily's White, Nor Praise The Deep Vermilion In The Rose; They Were But Sweet, But Figures Of Delight, Drawn After You, You Pattern Of All Those.

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.

Profit Is A Blessing, If It's Not Stolen.