In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves; The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

Condemn The Fault And Not The Actor Of It?

O King, Believe Not This Hard-hearted Man!

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.