Blood Is The God Of

Love Is Not Ful Of Pittie (as Men Say) But Deaffe And Cruell, Where He Meanes To Pray.

Things That Are Not At All, Are Never Lost.

Virtue Is The Fount Whence Honour Springs.

Where Both Deliberate, The Love Is Slight: Who Ever Lov'd, That Lov'd Not At First Sight?

There Is No Sin But Ignorance.