O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

Anger's My Meat. I Sup Upon Myself, And So Shall Starve With Feeding.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

We Are Oft To Blame In This, - 'tis Too Much Proved, - That With Devotion's Visage, And Pios Action We Do Sugar O'er The Devil Himself.

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

Neither A Borrower Nor A Lender Be, For Loan Oft Loses Both Itself And Friend, And Borrowing Dulls The Edge Of Husbandry.