Love Goes Toward Love As Schoolboys From

Many A Man's Tongue Shakes Out His Master's Undoing.

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

And Oftentimes, To Win Us To Our Harm, The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths, Win Us With Honest Trifles, To Betray's In Deepest Consequence

I'll Be Supposed Upon A Book, His Face Is The Worst Thing About Him.

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended.