Wrong Hath But Wrong, And Blame The

No, No; 'tis All Men's Office To Speak Patience To Those That Wring Under The Load Of Sorrow, But No Man's Virtue Nor Sufficiency To Be So Moral When He Shall Endure The Like Himself. Therefore Give Me No Counsel: My Griefs Cry Louder Than Advertisement.

In Limited Professions There's Boundless Theft.

Yet, Do Thy Worst, Old Time; Despite Thy Wrong, My Love Shall In My Verse Ever Live Young.

The Most Peaceable Way For You, If You Do Take A Thief, Is, To Let Him Show Himself What He Is And Steal Out Of Your Company.

Ah, What A Sign It Is Of Evil Life, Where Death's Approach Is Seen So Terrible!