All Pity Choked With Custom Of Fell

Foul Deeds Will Rise, Though All The Earth O'erwhelm Them, To Men's Eyes.

And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night.

If Is A Custom, More Honor'd In The Breach Than The Observance.

It May Do Good; Pride Hath No Other Glass To Show Itself But Pride, For Supple Knees Feed Arrogance And Are The Proud Man's Fees.

How Soar Sweet Music Is, When Time Is Broke, And No Proportion Kept!