It Holds For Good Polity Ever, To

There Is No Greater Hell Than To Be A Prisoner Of Fear.

The Man That Is Once Hated, Both His Good And His Evil Deeds Oppress Him.

I Now Think, Love Is Rather Deaf, Than Blind, For Else It Could Not Be, That She, Whom I Adore So Much, Should So Slight Me, And Cast My Love Behind.

He Threatens Many That Hath Injured One.

Freedom Doth With Degree Dispense.