A Plague On Both Your

If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness, Did Lay Siege To It, Making It Momentary As A Sound, Swift As A Shadow, Short As Any Dream, Brief As The Lightning In The Collied Night That, In A Spleen, Unfolds Both Heaven And Earth, And Ere A Man Hath Power To Say 'behold!' The Jaws Of Darkness Do Devour It Up; So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

Beggar That I Am, I Am Even Poor In Thanks, But I Thank You; And Sure, Dear Friends, My Thanks Are Too Dear A Halfpenny.

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.

Tis Time To Fear When Tyrants Seem To Kiss.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None: Be Able For Thine Enemy Rather In Power Than Use; And Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key: Be Check'd For Silence, But Never Tax'd For Speech.