Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

Love Moderately; Long Love Doth So; Too Swift Arrives As Tardy As Too Slow.

Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

Time Goes On Crutches Till Love Have All His Rites.

I See You Stand Like Greyhounds In The Slips, Straining Upon The Start. The Game's Afoot; Follow Your Spirit: And Upon This Charge, Cry — God For Harry! England And Saint George!