Lord, Lord, How This World Is Given

The Bird That Hath Been Limed In A Bush, With Trembling Wings Misdoubteth Every Bush.

Let Never Day Nor Night Unhallowed Pass, But Still Remember What The Lord Hath Done.

I Go, I Go, Look How I Go, Swifter Than An Arrow From A Bow

He Uses His Folly Like A Stalking-horse, And Under The Presentation Of That He Shoots His Wit.

Can You Nominate In Order Now The Degrees Of The Lie? I Will Name You The Degrees. The First, The Retort Courteous; The Second, The Quip Modest; The Third, The Reply Churlish; The Fourth, The Reproof Valiant; The Fifth; The Countercheck Quarrelsome; The Sixth, The Lie With Circumstance; The Seventh, The Lie Direct. All These You May Avoid But The Lie Direct; And You May Avoid That Too, With An If. . . . Your If Is The Only Peace-maker; Much Virtue In If.