Extremity Is The Trier Of

And So, From Hour To Hour, We Ripe And Ripe. And Then, From Hour To Hour, We Rot And Rot; And Thereby Hangs A Tale.

When Holy And Devout Religious Men Are At Their Beads, 'tis Hard To Draw Them Thence; So Sweet Is Zealous Contemplation.

Let There Be Gall Enough In Thy Ink, Though Thou Write With A Goose-pen, No Matter.

The Error Of Our Eye Directs Our Mind. What Error Leads Must Err.

Thou Hast Not Half That Power To Do Me Harm As I Have To Be Hurt.