I In My Own House Am An

We Have Not An Hour Of Life In Which Our Pleasures Relish Not Some Pain, Our Sours, Some Sweetness.

Honour Is Virtue's Allowed Ascent: Honour That Clasps All Perfect Justice In Her Arms; That Craves No More Respect Than That She Gives; That Does Nothing But What She'll Suffer.

One Grain Of Incense With Devotion Offer'd 's Beyond All Perfumes Of Sabaean Spices.

Such As Ne'er Saw Swans May Think Crows Beautiful.

What Can Innocence Hope For, When Such As Sit Her Judges Are Corrupted!