You Are Not Wood, You

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

Rest You Fair, Good Signior; Your Worship Was The Last Man In Our Mouths.

Where Hateful Death Put On His Ugliest Mask.

Can You Nominate In Order Now The Degrees Of The Lie? I Will Name You The Degrees. The First, The Retort Courteous; The Second, The Quip Modest; The Third, The Reply Churlish; The Fourth, The Reproof Valiant; The Fifth; The Countercheck Quarrelsome; The Sixth, The Lie With Circumstance; The Seventh, The Lie Direct. All These You May Avoid But The Lie Direct; And You May Avoid That Too, With An If. . . . Your If Is The Only Peace-maker; Much Virtue In If.

Small Herbs Have Grace, Great Weeds Do Grow Apace.