There Is A Time In The Affairs

My Dear, Dear Lord, The Purest Treasure Mortal Times Afford Is Spotless Reputation; That Away Men Are But Gilded Loan Or Painted Clay... Mine Honor Is My Life; Both Grow In One; Take Honor From Me, And My Life Is Done.

Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself And Trust No Agent.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

O Horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue Nor Heart Cannot Conceive Nor Name Thee!

She's Gone. I Am Abused, And My Relief Must Be To Loathe Her.