I Have Of Late--but Wherefore I Know

Thou Hast Not Half That Power To Do Me Harm As I Have To Be Hurt.

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

Grim-visaged War Hath Smoothed His Wrinkled Front; And Now, Instead Of Mounting Barbed Steeds To Fright The Souls Of Fearful Adversaries, He Capers Nimbly In A Lady's Chamber To The Lascivious Pleasing Of A Lute.

The Liquid Drops Of Tears That You Have Shed Shall Come Again, Transform'd To Orient Pearl, Advantaging Their Loan With Interest Of Ten Times Double Gain Of Happiness.