I Am A Kind Of Burr; I

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

Her Virtues, Graced With External Gifts, Do Breed Love's Settled Passions In My Heart; And Like As Rigour Of Tempestuous Gusts Provokes The Mightiest Hulk Against The Tide, So Am I Driven By Breath Of Her Renown Either To Suffer Shipwreck Or Arrive Where I May Have Fruition Of Her Love.

Angels Are Bright Still, Though The Brightest Fell. Though All Things Foul Would Wear The Brows Of Grace, Yet Grace Must Still Look So.

What, Man, Defy The Devil. Consider, He's An Enemy To Mankind.

Wine Loved I Deeply, Dice Dearly.