I Am Indeed Not Her Fool, But

I Have Thrust Myself Into This Maze, Haply To Wive And Thrive As Best I May.

If They Love They Know Not Why, They Hate Upon No Better Ground, They Hate Upon No Better A Ground

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors Accumulate.

Self-love, My Liege, Is Not So Vile A Sin, As Self-neglecting.