Policy Sits Above Conscience.

And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

Because I Cannot Flatter And Look Fair, Smile In Men's Faces, Smooth, Deceive, And Cog, Duck With French Nods And Apish Courtesy, I Must Be Held A Rancorous Enemy.

Love's Not Time's Fool, Though Rosy Lips And Cheeks Within His Bending Sickle's Compass Come.

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.

No, Cassius; For The Eye Sees Not Itself, But By Reflection, By Some Other Things.