Pride Went Before, Ambition Follows Him.

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself, Nor Is Not Moved With Concord Of Sweet Sounds, Is Fit For Treasons, Stratagems And Spoils.

Each Present Joy Or Sorrow Seems The Chief.

God Grant Us Patience!

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.