If It Be Honor In Your Wars

What I Have Done Is Yours; What I Have To Do Is Yours; Being Part In All I Have, Devoted Yours.

Stay, My Lord, And Let Your Reason With Your Choler Question What 'tis You Go About: To Climb Steep Hills Requires Slow Pace At First: Anger Is Like A Full-hot Horse, Who Being Allow'd His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him. Not A Man In England Can Advise Me Like You: Be To Yourself As You Would To Your Friend.

And Why Not Death Rather Than Living Torment? To Die Is To Be Banish'd From Myself; And Silvia Is Myself: Banish'd From Her Is Self From Self: A Deadly Banishment!

The Best Quarrels, In The Heat, Are Cursed By Those That Feel Their Sharpness.

One Pain Is Cured By Another. Catch Some New Infection In Your Eye And The Poison Of The Old One Would Die.