I Will Not Be Triumphed Over.

And Make Death Proud To Take Us.

Fool! Don't You See Now That I Could Have Poisoned You A Hundred Times Had I Been Able To Live Without You.

My Honour Was Not Yielded, But Conquered Merely.

Leave The Fishing-rod, Great General, To Us Sovereigns Of Pharos And Canopus. Your Game Is Cities And Kings And Continents.

All Strange And Terrible Events Are Welcome, But Comforts We Despise.