Madness In Great Ones Must Not Unwatched

Their Savage Eyes Turned To A Modest Gaze By The Sweet Power Of Music.

How Poor Are They That Have Not Patience! What Wound Did Ever Heal But By Degrees?

Passion Makes The Will Lord Of The Reason.

Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious Thing.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.