He Is Not Great Who Is Not

Gnarling Sorrow Hath Less Power To Bite The Man That Mocks At It And Sets It Light.

Away! Thou'rt Poison To My Blood.

Lechery, Lechery; Still, Wars And Lechery: Nothing Else Holds Fashion.

Men That Make Envy And Crooked Malice Nourishment, Dare Bite The Best.

We Bring Forth Weeds When Our Quick Minds Lie Still.