If It Will Feed Nothing Else, It

To Offend And Judge Are Distinct Offices, And Of Opposed Natures.

I Love Him For His Sake; And Yet I Know Him A Notorious Liar, Think Him A Great Way Fool, Solely A Coward; Yet These Fix'd Evils Sit So Fit In Him That They Take Place When Virtue's Steely Bones Looks Bleak I' Th' Cold Wind; Withal, Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

But Whate'er I Am, Nor I Nor Any Man That But Man Is, With Nothing Shall Be Pleased 'til He Be Eased With Being Nothing.

There's No Better Sign Of A Brave Mind Than A Hard Hand.

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror