For To Be Wise And Love Exceeds

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.

'tis Better To Bear The Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of.

Forever, And Forever, Farewell, Cassius! If We Do Meet Again, Why, We Shall Smile; If Not, Why Then This Parting Was Well Made.

I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No, I Will Speak As Liberal As The North; Let Heaven And Men And Devils, Let Them All, All, All, Cry Shame Against Me, Yet I'll Speak.