To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror

Some Rise By Sin, And Some By Virtue Fall.

So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life, Or As Sweet Seasoned Showers Are To The Ground.

If It Be You That Stirs These Daughters' Hearts Against Their Father, Fool Me Not So Much To Bear It Tamely; Touch Me With Noble Anger, And Let Not Women's Weapons, Water Drops, Stain My Man's Cheeks.

We Must Not Make A Scarecrow Of The Law, Setting It Up To Fear The Birds Of Prey, And Let It Keep One Shape Till Custom Make It Their Perch, And Not Their Terror.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.