Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

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.

His Neigh Is Like The Bidding Of A Monarch, And His Countenance Enforces Homage. He Is Indeed A Horse.

Why, This Hath Not A Finger's Dignity.

An Envious Fever Of Pale And Bloodless Emulation.

His Forward Voice Now Is To Speak Well Of His Friend. His Backward Voice Is To Utter Foul Speeches And To Detract.