I Was A Coward On

A Little More Than Kin, And Less Than Kind.

And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy With Odd Old Ends Stol'n Out Of Holy Writ; And Seem A Saint, When Most I Play The Devil.

Great Men Should Drink With Harness On Their Throats.

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends And In Their Triump Die, Like Fire And Powder Which, As They Kiss, Consume

No Metal Can--no, Not The Hangman's Axe--bear Half The Keenness Of Thy Sharp Envy.